


A Big Hand for the Little Morty

by DariganBori



Series: Edge of the Finite Curve [1]
Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Adoption, Adorable, Age Difference, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Bottom Morty Smith, Citadel of Ricks, Consensual Underage Sex, Cute, Eventual Romance, Fluff, Gentle Rick Sanchez (Rick and Morty), Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Incest, Incest, Jealous Rick Sanchez (Rick and Morty), Kind Rick, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Possessive Rick Sanchez, Praise Kink, Protective Rick, Romance, Shy Morty Smith, Size Difference, Slow Burn, Sweet, Top Rick Sanchez, Wing Grooming, Wing Kink, Winged Morty, Wingfic, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:47:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 18
Words: 124,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26921632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DariganBori/pseuds/DariganBori
Summary: All his life, Rick had been alone. Alone with the few friends he'd had over the years, alone in crowds, and alone in space or even at home. Especially at home. Only after taking a trip to the Citadel of Ricks well after it had been established did he realize that he had been missing something very important from his life. Something that nearly every Rick he saw wandering around the streets had—a little companion in a yellow shirt and bluejeans.Rick from dimension S-322 had gone long enough without a Morty in his life and decided it was high time that he got one. Only the Morty that was apparently most suitable for him to take home was something he was never expecting... It's love at first sight.Prepare for ups and downs, untold amounts of uncertainty, and a bunch of mutual pining.Spoiler: There's wings in this one, broh.
Relationships: Rick Sanchez & Morty Smith, Rick Sanchez/Morty Smith
Series: Edge of the Finite Curve [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1964293
Comments: 256
Kudos: 349





	1. Interview with the Rick

**Author's Note:**

> This story was initially inspired by the amazing story "Feather-Light Touches" by MiniPandaBuns. It filled me with the nostalgia of my love of wings and winged people, and so I was inspired to write my own Rick and Morty "wingfic"—because there needs to be more.
> 
> I started writing this story in May 2020 and finally finished in August, and this will be the beginning of a series of winged Rick and Morty stories that I hope will prove to be entertaining as well as titillating...because I can't help but go there. XD I write a lot of explicit content...yeah. LOL
> 
> I'm just hoping that the things that I love and write about, and the way that I write them, are as enjoyable to others as it is to me. That's why I'm here, to share what I've created, in hopes that others will like it too.
> 
> So, please enjoy the romance and drama that's sure to come! Thank you for stopping by!

"Secretary, send in the next candidate," Agent Rick said into the intercom on his desk before letting go of the button. He reclined back into his black leather upholstered office chair, sighing and spreading his dark blue blazer aside. After a few pats to his slender belly, he casually adjusted his belt to sit more comfortably around his waist. He'd just had a big lunch—deliciously prepared and packed expertly by his great cook of a Morty back at their apartment—but now had to unfortunately get back to work.

Lunch was his favorite time of the day during the workweek...besides going home when the workday was over, anyway. Living on the Citadel of Ricks was a pain and a half on the best of days, but it was always a welcome relief to step through the door to his apartment after a long day of work and be greeted by a sweet, smiling face and a hot, well-prepared meal.

Agent Rick counted himself among the lucky Ricks whose Mortys had found a talent at something. His Morty's expertise happened to be in cooking. The boy could whip up a full course meal from hardly nothing, and it always tasted great. It might have been a worry that he would get fat off of his grandson's culinary delights, if not for the augments to his body that kept him burning calories at a high rate, leaving him just as slim as the next Rick.

Sighing, Agent Rick took a moment to fix his white dress shirt and straighten his black tie, idling until his next client showed up. In being a Rick, he hated dealing with the bureaucracy and red tape his job required, but the company he worked for was a "necessary evil" for many Ricks with a very specific need. So he at least tried to take some pride in his job and appearance. He was providing a good service to many a Rick in need, and even though many didn't show their appreciation for his specific expertise in his profession, he felt appreciative of his own self for a job well done to compensate for it.

That being said, he still hated dealing with Ricks. Any time he didn't have to deal with his many alternate selves was a good time, in his book. In his line of work, however, he barely had a reprieve from his own self. Literally.

The door to his clean, white office slid open with a quiet swish and in walked another version of himself. That one looked quite default in his white lab coat covering a teal long-sleeved shirt tucked into brown pants, but more often than naught, any Rick that walked through that door looked exactly the same.

Agent Rick waved for the other to sit in one of the two chairs across from his dark honey oak desk and waited for him to do so, interlacing his fingers and resting them across his full belly. That was probably the only satisfaction he would have during the interview with that Rick—the feeling of a great lunch resting in his gut.

The other Rick looked stiff and uncomfortable, crossing his arms across his slender chest after being seated and staring with a slight scowl at the business-looking Rick behind the desk.

"You got your files?" Agent Rick asked with a quirked unibrow. ' _Please say no, so I can kick you out and waste some time,_ ' he thought irritably to himself.

Unfortunately for him, the Rick produced a small silver and white device from inside his lab coat and tossed it across the desk, the thing sliding to a halt in front of Agent Rick. Grunting, he picked it up and tapped a small button on it. From one end, a small metal connector slid out, much like a portable flash drive, and he plugged it into a port on an exposed panel next to a touchscreen keyboard on his desk. A holographic screen flickered to life off to Rick's left on the high-tech wooden desk, angled so he could easily read it and also look across at the person he was interviewing.

His eyes scanned the information, half-lidded in boredom. How many profiles had he read over the years that said almost exactly the same thing in only small variations. Everyone that sat across that desk was invariably a Rick, after all, and most Ricks were generally the same.

Hold on, what was that now? He looked back over the dimensional designation for his current client.

"An S-dimension Rick?" he asked, quirking his unibrow in sudden interest.

The Rick in the interviewee chair rolled his eyes and adjusted his crossed arms, trying to cross them harder. "Yeah. And?"

Agent Rick shrugged and cast his interest back to the screen. "It's just that I don't normally see an S-Rick in here. In fact, I don't think I **ever** have."

The Rick grunted and glared off to the side, staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows that made up one entire wall of the office and watching the air traffic bustle through the Citadel of Ricks.

"S-Ricks are pretty rare around the Citadel," Agent Rick went on, eyeing more of the information with a little more interest now. "S-three twenty-two, huh?"

"You got a problem with my dimensional marker, pal?" Rick S-322 grumbled, turning a glare to the interviewer.

Agent Rick lifted his hands in an arrested manner, leaning away from the aggression just a little. "No, no problem here. Just unusual is all. So, why are you here, then?"

Rick S-322 rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Ugh, why would **anyone** be here in your fucking office, man? I want a Morty, **obviously**."

"Well, I know that. I mean, why would you **bother** coming to the Morty-doption Agency? You're an S-Rick, right? Aren't you all bitter and cynical and depressed to the point of suicide, content with rotting in your home dimension?"

"Isn't **every** Rick?" S-322 retorted smugly.

"Touché." The interviewing Rick poured over more of S-322's file. He had to learn what was in there if he was to properly assign the right Morty to him, as per his role at the Morty-dopton Agency. He felt the need to give this one more effort and attention than the usual candidates that sat across from him. Maybe he felt bad for the guy. After all...S-Ricks never had a Morty.

Throughout the Central Finite Curve of universes where Ricks existed, there laid a spectrum of Ricks. In the center, there was the Prime Rick, the Rickest Rick, the one Rick most like himself. Then, further out to either side of the center were the many divergent Ricks, becoming more and more different from the Prime as the dimensions stretched out. The ones closest to the Prime Rick were only different in very small ways, be it the Rick himself was more insecure or vain or angry. Beyond that, the events of the dimensions themselves were slightly different from the Prime Rick's dimension. A Rick took a left where the next one over took a right. On and on, the dimensions stretched out until eventually the S-dimensions resided on the curve, far away from the central—the "C" dimensions. Ricks from the S-dimensions were not so much "unique" as they were rather "unfortunate".

Those Ricks never had a Morty.

A Morty-less Rick was always a sad-sack, miserable, lonely, angry and bitter, not to mention more prone to suicide than a Rick that had a Morty. Their situation was only amplified by the knowledge that any Rick that had a Morty, especially their original one, was a lot more stable and focused. Many Ricks would even say they had more energy and were extra inventive. They even made claims of feeling younger.

It all pointed to one, infinite truth: Every Rick needed a Morty.

It was rare, though, that an S-Rick would pursue actually **having** a Morty. Most of them, few as they were, tended to wallow in misery in their own dimensions. They would drink themselves into oblivion or recklessly run into trouble out in the universe, getting caught, tortured, and killed by their enemies. What did they care, though? They had no Morty...no protection...no little helper...no hope. S-Ricks were a slowly dying breed and the rest of the Ricks in the Finite Curve had no sympathy for them. S-Ricks were often shunned by their peers, further destabilizing their fragile psyche. It wasn't a pretty situation. And all it had come down to was a simple divergence from the Central Curve.

' _A damn shame,_ ' thought Agent Rick as he continued to scan over Rick S-322's profile. He scrolled down through the information and eventually came across the guy's psychological evaluation and list of his personality traits.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on here," he said, sitting straight in his chair and widening his eyes at the screen. "Is this correct? You're **that** far to the right of the Rick Spectrum?" He stared at his client, mouth slightly agape.

S-322 grunted and rolled his eyes for the third time since he stepped foot into that office. "I don't know, you tell me, asshole. I'm not the one who came up with that stupid test. I only took it because it was required for me to adopt a Morty."

"If these results are accurate, then you're just shy of being one of the least evil Ricks I've ever seen in here...aside from J-dimension Ricks," Agent rambled on. "How the hell are you an S-Rick?"

S-322 finally uncrossed his arms and leaned forward, slamming one fist to the desk and growling in irritation. "Sh-Shut the fuck up! My dimensional designation is not the be-all and end-all to my existence, you classist piece of shit! If I wanted constant slander for the dimension I was born in, I'd tattoo it on my forehead and wander around on those streets out there!" he yelled, pointing out the huge windows of the office to the bustling Citadel outside. "I took your stupid psyche tests and jumped through your 'how evil am I' hoops, and all I want is to adopt a fucking Morty! Now stop judging me and pair me up with one! Fuck!"

Agent Rick waved him down gently and gave a reassuring smile. "O-Okay, okay, easy there, tiger. No need to get so aggressive. I see that you are prone to verbal fits, but you rarely ever get violent, if at all, so that's a really good thing, okay? Chill, dawg. We're good."

S-322 grunted and leaned back into his seat, crossing his arms again and trying not to visibly pout, staring off out the windows.

"I also see that your kindness to cruelty ratio is rather high, as well as a high level of...empathy? Wow... I'd say you're just shy of a Wasp Rick in that aspect."

S-322 glared at him, fuming but silent.

Agent Rick hummed in thought, running a finger along the underside of his bottom lip, narrowing his eyes at the profile. If everything listed there was true and accurate, Rick S-322 was one of the kindest, gentlest Ricks on the Spectrum of Ricks. Not the most, of course—he was still rough around the edges—but overall. It lit a spark of intrigue.

"Let me ask you something. Not—Not being offensive here," he wondered, leaning back in his leather office chair and eyeing his client with reserved contemplation.

S-322 just huffed but waited quietly for him to continue.

"Why do you want a Morty?"

The interviewee Rick narrowed his eyes to a glare and shook his head subtly. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and sighed it back out. Tension seemed to leave his muscles, and his shoulders relaxed somewhat. When he opened his icy grey eyes again, he looked much calmer. "Why shouldn't I want one?"

"While I do agree that every Rick should have a Morty, even those Ricks who never had one or have lost theirs somehow...right now, I'm asking just you, specifically, why you want one." Agent Rick steepled his fingers and pressed his lips to them, patiently waiting for an answer.

Nodding, Rick S-322 could not deny the rationality of that question. He was in an interview to adopt a Morty after all. His motivation for wanting one would probably be a huge deciding factor on whether he would get one or not, or even which one he would get.

"Since I know I'll never have a Morty in my own dimension, I figured the next best thing would be to adopt one from another one. Some Morty that lost his Rick or something," he said, shrugging.

"But **why**...?" the interviewing Rick pressed.

S-322 sighed and shrugged again, averting his eyes and tightening his crossed arms. "I dunno... Why not? I mean, 'every Rick needs a Morty', right?"

"You're really trying hard to dodge the question," Agent Rick observed. "L-Let me put it this way: if you don't give me some honest answers here, I'll deem this interview didn't go well, and send you right back to the bottom of the list of candidates for a Morty-doption. And I bet it took you quite a while just to get to this point, hm?" He cocked his unibrow with the idle threat.

Rick S-322 grunted, his hackles rising again, but he took another breath and forced himself to relax, knowing that his interviewer was watching and judging his every action and word. He really had waited a long time and jumped through so many bureaucratic hoops that being sent back to the beginning would rip the wind from his sails, and he just might end up like those other S-Ricks.

With begrudging resignation, he decided to be open and forthright with his answer, knowing that Ricks could see through each other's bullshit a mile away anyway, as that caseworker Rick already had.

To save as much face as he could, he leaned forward and rested his elbows to his knees and his forehead to the edges of his hands, bracing his thumbs to his temples and using his fingers to shield his eyes so he wouldn't have to look at the judgmental Rick behind the desk. "Look...I-I live alone. I never went back to my Beth because it would just complicate things for both of us. Besides, without grandkids and especially without a Morty, going back would be kinda pointless anyway. Being alone for so long gets...depressing, and all that shit. I got a nice off-the-grid place in the woods on Earth of my dimension with a huge lab and a comfortable living space. I got it pretty good where I am, but...it's...i-it's lonely, okay?" He took a slow, steady breath. "I usually make do on supply runs, if you also wanna get technical here. But having a Morty for the brainwaves cover would make things a lot more convenient for me. I mean...I don't have quite as many enemies as your average Rick, but sometimes I broke some eggs making omelets, if ya know what I mean."

Agent Rick nodded and hummed a little in acknowledgement.

"I-I just..." S-322 went on, but hesitated to actually continue for a short while as he tried to gather his thoughts. "I'm not looking to be a Morty's replacement grandfather or anything here." He huffed a quiet, humorless laugh. "I'll **never** be a grandfather." Slow, deep breaths were the only thing escaping his lips for a few long moments after that. "I just want...ugh..." he grunted, finding it very hard to actually speak the words aloud. He swallowed a mouthful of spit and parted his lips, saying quietly, "I want a companion." His slender, bony fingers slid up into his hair and gripped it firmly.

The interviewing Rick gave him a moment of silence, contemplating that answer, simultaneously finding it surprising and not. Surprising for the fact that he was from an S-dimension, and not, because of his psychological profile. ' _There certainly are all kinds of Ricks,_ ' he thought idly.

Finally, Agent Rick spoke up again. "Okay. I see where you're coming from there. But in all honesty, if you wanted some companionship, why not just find a lover or even a simple roommate? Why a Morty?"

S-322 sighed and leaned his head on one hand, running the other back through his wild silvery-blue hair. He ended the move with a one-armed shrug and flopped his arm down into his lap. "A roommate? Are you kidding me? I'm a **Rick**...I can't stand random people long enough to say hello to, let alone share my home with them. You should have known that before you even considered asking that stupid fucking question. And as for lovers...well, I got a lot, but none of them are move-in material... If you get my drift."

Agent Rick just shrugged and nodded, silently waiting for his client to continue.

"Besides, everywhere I turned, every Rick I talked to, it's always the same: Mortys belong with Ricks. Mortys complete Ricks. If a Rick doesn't have a Morty, he's better off dead... Brushing aside the more asshole-ish Ricks that only praise how much abuse they can take or how easily manipulated they are," he grumbled, clearly not a fan of those kinds of Ricks.

Agent Rick paid close attention to that.

"W-Well, I may be from a dimension that will never have a Morty, but—but that doesn't mean I can't have one at all, right? So that's why I'm here," S-322 finished with a sigh, sitting straight and leaning back into his chair, crossing his arms again.

Agent Rick nodded thoughtfully, processing his client's answer. Sitting quietly, he tapped a crooked forefinger against his bottom lip, tipping back and forward in his chair, rocking slightly as he considered all of the information he'd been presented during the interview.

The silence was awkward to say the least, and Rick S-322 shifted nervously in his seat, unsure of what was going to happen next.

Agent's eyes suddenly lit up, and a soft, sort of surprised smile quirked his mouth up on one side. He sat up and leaned over, reaching down to pull open a drawer on his desk. S-322 arched one side of his eyebrow and tilted up a little, trying to look over the wide surface to see what the agent was doing, but all he heard was the roll of the drawer and a few faint clicking sounds.

"Got one more thing, Rick," Agent said, unable to hide the knowing smirk on his face. "Here," he offered, leaning up and bringing his hands into view, both cupped together as though concealing something between his palms, "catch!" He threw his hands toward S-322, opening them.

Out tumbled a tiny baby bird, its little beak emitting high-pitched, stressed chirps, its feathers only just developed into fluffy white down. It flailed and peeped, and Rick S-322 gasped and jerked, darting his hands out in a panic. Lurching forward, he caught the tiny ball of fluff in his palms, forearms resting against the edge of the desk and hands uplifted, knees on the floor, and heavy panicked pants making his lips and mouth suddenly dry. Carefully, he lowered his arms and shuffled his butt back up into his chair, drawing his hands close to his chest in order to inspect what he'd so quickly lunged out to protect. The tiny chick in his palms was floppy and shaking, eyes barely open, teeny clawed feet not even making an indent into his skin.

Rick S-322's eyes shot up to Agent and glared, baring his teeth. "A-Are you crazy?! What the fuck is wrong with you—tossing this little thing at me?! Wh-Where the fuck did you get a baby bird from?! You keep them in your desk to toss at unsuspecting Ricks for shits and giggles?!"

The tiny bird cheeped and shivered in his hand, and Rick's eyes were drawn back to it like a magnet, softening immediately. He tilted his other palm up over the creature, providing cover and warmth.

"Crazy-ass son of a bitch, you coulda killed it!" he snarled, holding his gingerly cupped hands close to his chest.

The grin on Agent Rick's face could have split his head in two if it was any more self-satisfied than it currently was. He eyed the way Rick S-322 held that tiny bird, the gentleness of the hold, the protective way he cradled it, and the way the old man had fallen over himself, literally leaping out of his chair to catch the distressed creature before it fell—all before he even knew exactly what had been tossed at him.

Rick from dimension S-322 was the one...

Agent laughed heartily, leaning back in his chair and cupping a hand against his forehead. "Oh, this is rich! I can't believe it! Ha-ha-ha!" he crowed.

S-322 glowered at him and grit his teeth in a snarl. "The fuck is so funny, asshole?"

Agent Rick continued to snicker, propping a forearm to the desk and leaning forward over it. "Oh, your reaction was priceless, Rick! Mmmwah!" He kissed his fingertips and raised them into the air. "Absolute perfection!"

S-322 opened his mouth to snap back a witty reply, but Agent leaned down and lifted a small disk-shaped object into view, setting it on his desk with a clack. It looked a little like a flying saucer, with a small glassy dome on the top center and oval-shaped glassy protrusions lining all the way around the upward-facing edge. He tapped the top, and the white light glowing in the dome and ovals faded.

The baby bird in Rick's hand also faded and blinked out of existence, much to his wide-eyed surprise.

"It was just a simulation, Rick," Agent snickered, giving him a toothy grin. "No need to have a fit. Just a quick little test, is all."

"A—A test?... For what?" S-322 grumbled, uncupping his hands and crossing his arms in irritation, glaring across the desk at the other Rick.

"Oh, uh..." Agent him-hawed, rolling his eyes to the side in search of an off-the-cuff answer, "just reaction time."

S-322 glared at him, knowing the guy was lying, but chose not to pursue the issue. That interview was beginning to leave him exhausted, and he just wanted to be done talking. He'd gone through so many hoops, answered so many questions, caught a random-ass fake baby bird?—he was just tired. All he wanted was a fucking Morty, for fuck's sake! How long and drawn-out was the process going to be? How many weird things would he have to suffer? He sagged in his chair, huffing a sigh and rubbing at his forehead wearily.

A knowing smirk on his still bemused lips, Agent Rick brushed aside the holographic projector disk and sat up straighter, reaching out to tap a few buttons on the touch-sensitive pads near the holographic screen. Several windows popped up on it, each one showing a Morty profile picture, dimensional designation, and a description.

S-322's spirits lifted, realizing the other Rick was browsing through Mortys that were potential candidates for adoption. Apparently, his answers were good enough to jumpstart the Agent into searching for a compatible Morty...finally! His heart rate increased beat by beat. So close now. He was **so** close to having a Morty of his own now. At last, he would be just like all the other Ricks wandering around the Citadel with a little sidekick trailing beside them, or all the at-home Ricks that went back to their Beths to live in the Smith household and commandeer their Mortys for adventures and hijinks. His **own** Morty. Something he thought for the longest time would forever be out of his reach. He could taste the sweet tang of his anticipation tingling along his tongue.

The interviewing Rick swiped each profile aside, eyes narrowing with each rejected file. He began swiping faster, only lingering long enough to read the dimension number before throwing them away.

Rick narrowed his own eyes, wondering what the guy was up to, throwing so many possible candidates away like that with hardly a glance. That pounding anticipation was beginning to turn into acidic worry, gurgling around in his gut.

"Where the fuck is it?" Agent Rick grumbled to himself, swiping a handful more profiles away before grunting in frustration and hammering a specific code into the touch-sensitive keypad. What he'd entered narrowed the search dramatically, and he finally hummed in satisfaction, tapping the translucent holo-screen and pulling up one specific Morty's file.

"There we go. I think I've got just the Morty for you, Rick," he declared.

S-322 sat forward in his seat, failing miserably to disguise his interest. The sight made Agent Rick smirk knowingly.

"There's a Morty at the Morty Daycare that's been needing a home for well over a year now. He's always been on the back burner for potential adoption with every Rick that comes through here, but it never pans out in his favor. Mortys keep rotating in and out of the Daycare all the time, but he's among a fairly small group of Mortys that've been there the longest." Agent sat back in his seat, nodding to himself with a determined set to his unibrow, confident in his decision. "I believe he's the perfect fit for a Rick like you."

Rick S-322 waved for him to continue.

"The kid's been through a lot. Not only is his original Rick dead, so's his whole family. Some kind of lab accident in the Smith's garage or something. Pretty sure it had something to do with their Jerry fucking something up," Rick explained, scanning over the Morty's short profile. He hadn't read it in a long time, even though he always kept the boy in mind when interviewing potential adoptive Ricks.

"Hm," S-322 hummed, his brow arching in concern. He refrained from commenting further, but the interviewing Rick noted that reaction as well.

"Now, this Morty is a special case. He's real delicate...shy...small. He needs a tender hand to take care of him, but, as you can guess, not a lot of Ricks that come through my door are gentle enough to take up that responsibility. But you're perfect." He swiped the screen with his finger and brought the client Rick's profile up side by side with the Morty's. "Far to the right on the Rick Spectrum, not very violent, high in kindness and empathy... A very delicate hand... You're **perfect** for this Morty."

"Wait, wait, wait..." Rick mumbled, waving a hand at the other Rick across the desk. "A special case? Shy? Delicate? Small? Look, pal, I'm here to adopt a Morty—a **regular** Morty. Not some weak little thing that won't be of help to me, especially if I go off-world for anything. I need a strong, dependable Morty. One that'll back me up if shit goes south. One that'll be useful in my lab and help with upkeep of my place. I don't have time for a head case or some traumatized little thing that needs his hand held for every little thing."

"Listen, Rick, I understand your frustration, but you gotta understand mine too. My job is to place Mortys with Ricks that are the most compatible with each other. I've been looking for a Rick to take this particular Morty for a long time now. You're the first and best client I've ever seen come along in that time, and I doubt another one better than you will ever end up sitting in that chair." He nodded toward where S-322 was seated.

Rick S-322 huffed and flung his hands into the air in frustration. "You listen, pal. I said I'm here to adopt a regular, normal Morty. I need a companion, not a delicate little flower! Look, I'm sorry the little guy's been through a lot and lost his Rick and his family. That shit sucks; I'm not belittling what he's been through. But don't you also need to think about what **I** need out of this arrangement?"

Agent Rick smiled from ear to ear, nearly splitting his face again. "Oh, I certainly have, Rick." He leaned back in his seat, elbows to the armrests and steepling his fingers, smile turning smug. "'Adopt'. 'Companion'. 'Sorry'. 'Little guy'. 'Not belittling'." He shook his head in wonder. "Fuck if you aren't perfect for what he needs in a Rick. And trust me, he's definitely a good match for you too. He's a true Morty, so he'll shield you if you go out, and he's quite a loyal and helpful little thing."

"Ugh..." S-322 huffed, exasperated. "Come on, man...cut me some slack here," he whined in a last ditch plead.

Agent Rick just smiled more. "Meet him."

Rick S-322 frowned and froze in place. "Huh?"

"You have to at least meet him. Talk to him yourself. And afterward, if you still wanna refuse him, I'll do my best to fit you with a different Morty. But you need to at least meet him first before you can demand another. I've paired you with him, so you're required to follow the protocol," Agent Rick declared matter-of-factly.

S-322 harrumphed and crossed his arms in a definite pout. "Ugh fine," he grumbled, glaring out the office windows again.

"Excellent!" Agent enthused, plucking his cell phone from an inside pocket of his blazer and tapping a speed-dial number. There was a pause as it rang, then he grinned as an all-too-familiar voice answered. "Hey, Storage...... Yeah, I think I finally found the perfect candidate for your special 'W' case." He pulled the phone slightly away from his ear and winked at S-322 as the tinny sound of enthusiastic shouting erupted from the speaker. He leaned back into the device a moment later. "Thaaat's right... Have him sent to the Meet-N-Greet room. We'll be there shortly...... Yeah, yeah, we'll see. Now fuck off." He hung up the call and replaced his phone inside his jacket. "Well, then!" he chirped happily, clapping his hands and rubbing them together vigorously. "Shall we?"

The agent's grin was downright victorious, and Rick S-322 sighed, hanging and shaking his head in defeat.

"Fine. Let's go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're just getting started! I have a lot planned for this story, so please come back for more chapters soon!
> 
> If you like this so far, please check out my other fics that are posted here on AO3. Thanks for reading!


	2. Meet-N-Greet

Morty-doption Agent Rick and Rick S-322 walked at a slow but steady pace toward the room where they were to meet the Morty S-322 had been paired with. It was within the same building as the adoption agency which made it convenient because the Morty Daycare was right next door.

The hallways and elevator systems were all smooth and modern with that high-tech flair that Ricks liked to use when designing things. It was all familiar-looking sights, but Rick S-322 found it oppressive.

He hated the Citadel of Ricks.

He'd rather have his skin melted off than spend any significant time there, but he was doing what had to be done in order to get himself a Morty.

All his life, he had been alone. Alone with the few friends he'd had over the years, alone in crowds, and alone in space or even at home. Especially at home. Only after taking a trip to the Citadel of Ricks well after it had been established did he realize that he had been missing something very important from his life. Something that nearly every Rick he saw wandering around the streets had—a little companion in a yellow shirt and bluejeans.

At first, he was confused. Then, when he learned who that young boy was, he felt jealous, then bitter and angry. Because he knew that he would never have a boy like that of his own.

Rick remembered vaguely that he went home and drank himself past the point of blackout. He remembered weeping, trashing his lab, screaming out at no one, because no one was around.

He was alone.

So alone.

After that, he fell into a dark depression. He hardly got out of bed, hardly ate, stopped inventing, drank constantly, vaguely registered the days passing. Every moment alive was like agony that was swimming in a cold pool of loneliness and misery. For a long time, he thought he was drowning in that pool.

Then one day, he woke up, got out of bed, made himself something to eat, and thought. He thought and thought and thought. Were there any other Ricks that didn't have a Morty in their dimension? He soon embarked to find out, portaling to nearby S-dimensions along the Curve. And it was true—none of those Ricks had a Morty...of the Ricks he could find alive. They all resembled him in their loneliness and self-destructive behavior as well.

Over time, Rick had realized that the path he was following would end up bleak—a dead end, just like those other Ricks from the other S-dimensions. So he went back to the Citadel and started asking around about Mortys. He either heard that they were good little helpers or good little guinea pigs. But whether he talked to a Rick that was rather nice or one that was more of an asshole, they all had the same qualities. Bad or good, a Rick with a Morty was happier, healthier, more enthusiastic about life in general and about their inventions or discoveries.

And Rick S-322 wanted in on it. Why shouldn't he? If every Rick needed a Morty, then why not him too?

He learned that whenever a Rick died or was MIA, his Morty was usually put into the daycare system...whether they still had a family back home on Earth or not. From there, the boy either went to the Morty Academy if he needed to learn to be a "better" Morty for a new Rick, or he was left in daycare until a Rick came along to adopt him.

It was then that Rick decided that he was going to adopt a Morty too. And after months of cleaning himself up, then more months of red tape, he was finally walking the bright halls of the Morty-doption Agency, about to meet a Morty that could end up being his very own.

His pulse was quick, and his hands were sweaty, nerves fluttering in his gut. Even though he wasn't enthusiastic about the kind of Morty he had been paired up with—"fragile" and "weak"—it was still a Morty that could be his. He'd give the little guy a chance, anyway.

"What'cha thinkin' about?" Agent Rick asked suddenly, his voice echoing off the smooth white walls of the hallway.

Rick S-322 jolted and darted his gaze over to his other self, his heart hammering from nerves and that scare. "Ah...n-nothing," he mumbled, embarrassed. He looked away quickly, paying undue attention to where he was going.

Agent Rick hummed with a little smile. "You know, it's nice to see a Rick like you walking these halls for once. Most of the time, I'm leading just another asshole through here."

Rick glanced at him for a moment, then faced ahead again. "Well, I'm a very right-leaning Rick, after all. Guess that means something."

"Mm-hmm..."

"I take it you're rather right-leaning yourself? You don't seem much like the average Rick on the Citadel streets," he said, attempting to make conversation while they trekked on. It wasn't often he didn't mind talking to another one of his selves. Agent Rick didn't seem too bad a guy after all. Much as he disliked engaging in conversation with others, especially strangers, it was a little different when talking to himself...in a strange metaphysical sense.

The caseworker Rick sighed and stretched his arms high over his head, interlacing his fingers and cracking his knuckles, then tucked his interlocked hands behind the back of his head as they continued walking. "Why do you think I'm working in the Morty-doption Agency?" he asked, amusement in his tone.

Rick only chuckled softly in answer.

"Every Rick in the adoption agency and daycare system on the Citadel is a right-leaning Rick. I mean, **somebody's** gotta care for the little shits, right?"

"Mm..."

"Even the educational system and medical field is full of right-leaning Ricks. The kind of Rick that gives a shit about a Morty's safety and well-being. Not to say that righty-Ricks still can't be assholes, but they're much less of an asshole when it comes to Mortys," Agent went on. "If any lefty-Ricks got into any of those systems, everything would fall apart. Mortys would start getting abused, probably under the table at first, then right out in the open. Little shits would probably end up missing or worse after that. We keep the Rickless Mortys safe and well-cared-for under the current system. After they're adopted or graduated from the Academy and assigned to new Ricks, it's out of our hands, though."

"Do you ever regret having to pair a Morty to an evil Rick?" Rick asked quietly.

Agent Rick sighed and dropped his hands down into his trouser pockets. "In my line of work, I gotta do what I gotta do. The least I can do is try to pair a Morty that's strong enough to weather the abuse I know is comin'. I drink a little more on those days."

Rick S-322 hummed in reply, not envying his other self's job.

"Silver lining, though," Agent Rick continued, turning a smirk toward him, "once a Rick has gone through five Mortys, he's sent through a rigorous examination process. Usually, they end up not being able to get a Morty anymore."

"Heh, nice," Rick chuckled. "Least there's that."

"But don't get me wrong, lefty-Ricks aren't all awful blights on the multiverse. They may be a bit more on the demented side and tend to be self-serving pieces of shit, but, no lie, lefty-Ricks get shit done," Agent carried on. "It's just the ones that get way far out on the Rick Spectrum that end up being a problem."

"Mm. And righty-Ricks are a lot more laid back and easygoing. Yeah, I know. Trust me."

They both chuckled a little, knowing that all too well.

Rick and his caseworker walked on at their slow and casual pace for another long minute before they came to a closed metal door on the right-hand side of the hallway. A potted plant sat beside it, like an indicator that there was a more casual room inside. A plaque on the wall beside the door read "Meet-N-Greet" with an access panel beneath it.

"Okay, here we are," Agent Rick announced. "A couple things before we go in first." He pulled a small tablet from his coat pocket, and it illuminated with a teal screen similar to the holo screen on his office desk. On there was the profile information for the Morty they were about to meet. "I've paired you with this Morty because you're the most compatible, but there's still some details you should know about him first before you interact with him."

Rick S-322 quirked his unibrow in curious concern, but refrained from saying anything yet.

"First thing," Agent Rick began, slowly dragging his finger along the holo screen and reading the information listed there, "this Morty is very delicate, like I mentioned before. You can't manhandle the kid or he'll break."

Jerking his head back in surprise, Rick uttered a soft "uh" before finding his voice and saying, "He'll **break**? What's the boy made of? Glass?"

Agent Rick shook his head. "No, his bones are hollow."

Rick's mouth hung open. "H-Hollow? What the fuck did his original Rick **do** to him?"

"Nothing. He's from a dimension where everyone is like that, even his Rick. His original actually took real good care of him, from what this says. And that brings us to the next thing..." He cleared his throat quietly. "This Morty and his Rick were in a-uh...a relationship."

Rick S-322's mouth continued to hang open. "You—You coulda said something about this **before** we got here, you know?!" he yelled, waving an arm out to the side in exasperation.

Agent Rick sighed and shrugged. "Here or back in the office wouldn't make a difference. You would still have to meet him before you're allowed to refuse him. Now listen, is that something that's gonna bother you? I need to know before we go in."

Rick groaned and ran a hand down over his face slowly, giving real thought to the question. By the time he swiped his fingers over his chin, he opened his eyes and sighed as though drained of all the fight left in him. "Shit, man... The kid's ruined, isn't he?"

Agent Rick chuckled conspiratorially. "You know what they say... When you go Rick, you can never go back. It doesn't rhyme, but it's the fuckin' truth. And here's another thing they say: Nothing beats a Morty in the sack."

"Is that what they say?"

"The ones that've had Mortys definitely do."

"What about you, huh?" Rick asked, quirking his brow and staring the agent up and down. "Have **you** had a Morty?"

Agent Rick cleared his throat awkwardly and stared with obvious feigned interest at the screen in his hand. "Not that it's any of your business, but I happen to have a good little Morty back at my place. He cooks and cleans and does the laundry, and if there's any extracurricular activities that happen while I'm home, that's not your concern."

Rick laughed aloud, diffusing the awkward moment.

"Look," Agent said softly, lowering the tablet to his side and leveling honest eyes toward his client, "Mortys are made for Ricks...to fulfill any need a Rick has...whether those needs be work-related, familial, or-uh...sexual... Some Ricks never take that step, and they're still greatly fulfilled by the Mortys in their lives. The ones that do, well..." he shrugged, "they're fulfilled in that respect too, then. It's all a matter of personal preference, how loose your morals are, and if you've discarded any planetary mindsets you've had. Every Rick is different, despite that they always say otherwise." He cleared his throat again. "I'm not saying that you **have** to have a sexual relationship with that Morty in there. I'm just warning you that he's had a Rick before. So don't be surprised if he makes eyes at you or comes on to you."

Rick nodded reservedly, taking a deep, slow breath. "Well, it's not like he's my **actual** grandson or anything either. Even though, technically, genetics, blah-blah-bullshit," he grumbled, waving a hand around noncommittally and rolling his eyes. "What I mean is, I've never had that familial bond with a Morty so..." He sighed softly. "To answer your question: no, it doesn't bother me. S'all good, bro," he ended with a shrug of not only his shoulders, but his facial features as well.

Agent Rick nodded and turned back to the small screen. "Good good. Okay, so, he's also shy, but will warm up to you as long as you're nice to him. Being a mean prick will make him shut down, so careful what you say around him while you're getting to know him."

Rick rolled his eyes. "Geez how much of a snowflake is this kid? You tryin' to give me a Morty that'll snap like a twig then cry if I blow on him? Fuck."

Agent chuckled warmly and shook his head. "You'll see. He's a special little guy. I know you'll like him and want to keep him. I have a 99.99% success rate for pairing Ricks and Mortys. It's my specialty, after all—s'why I work here. I know you'll both do well together."

"Whatever. Let's just get this over with."

Not having anything left to divulge, Agent Rick nodded and tapped a short code into the access panel beside the door, and it slid open with a soft hiss of air. The two Ricks entered the room and stood near the door as it swished back closed.

The room wasn't overly big, but it was also large enough to have space to spread out. The space was well lit, and there was a large, brown leather sofa and matching love seat sitting perpendicular to each other in the center of the room with two matching leather chairs perpendicular with each other, all of them forming a rectangular seating area. A large, green, oval rug rested on the floor in the center of them. Along the farthest wall sat a long table with a coffee machine, mini fridge, and several forms of snacks to pick from. There was also a self-serve bar beside the snack table, obviously there for the Ricks. A few framed paintings hung on each of the walls, nothing noteworthy to speak of, just classic vases of flowers or landscapes. They kind of looked like they were acquired from a yard sale at some point and used to just spruce the place up a little.

The room was devoid of any entertainment such as a TV or magazines. It was purely a room to sit and interact with others.

The one other thing also missing from the room was a Morty.

"Well?" Rick S-322 asked, crossing his arms to hold them still and glancing all around the room. The stark nervousness that exploded hotly throughout his body when the door whooshed open crashed and burned the second he noticed the place was unoccupied. The feeling nearly left him exhausted and a little twitchy. "So where is he?"

"Huh..." Agent Rick uttered in confusion. "I know I told Storage to send him to the Meet-N-Greet room. Maybe he got delayed?" He pulled out his phone and dialed Storage Rick again. "Damn it, I made sure to take our time too...... Hey, dipshit," he grumbled into the phone when the line picked up. "Where the hell is that Morty?" He waited for the reply. "No, he's not. We're here and there's no fuckin' Morty...... Don't yell at me, asswipe, it was **your** job to make sure he was here on time! You had **one** fuckin' job!"

Rick rolled his eyes and scanned across the room, ignoring the one-sided shouting match beside him and contemplating on heading over to that bar for a drink. Maybe that would settle his frazzled nerves until the Morty showed up. Those snacks looked pretty fresh and tasty too. He moved to take a step further into the room when a sudden motion caught his eye, and he stopped. Something moved over behind the love seat that was situated facing him, the back of it opposite to the snack table and bar.

His heart leapt into his throat, but it couldn't keep the knowing smirk off his lips. He turned and nudged the caseworker Rick with his elbow to get his attention. The guy turned to him mid-rant, glaring, but quickly shut up when Rick nodded his head toward the love seat and winked, biting his lip with barely suppressed excitement.

"...What? Oh...oh, no, never mind. Yeah, never mind, forget it...... I said forget it!" he shouted and hung up, tucking the phone back into the inner pocket of his blazer. He nodded to his client then moved further into the room and stood near the end of the long couch, still plenty of distance between himself and the love seat.

"Hey, there, Morty. It's Agent Rick. You remember me?" he called gently. "I know it's been a long time."

Very slowly, a small head of brown hair poked up over the back of the love seat and large round eyes blinked in curiosity.

"Hey, there's our little guy!" Agent Rick said enthusiastically. Apparently, he knew how to talk to the boy already. That, or it was just the way he always treated every Morty, since he was a right-leaning Rick himself. "I didn't think you were in here. Damn, kid, you hide pretty good."

Morty rose up higher, revealing a smile forming on his small, rounded face, but he stopped and ducked back down until he was peeking over the couch again, having looked to the side and caught sight of the other Rick in the room.

And that other Rick stared right back at him, icy grey eyes wide and taking in what little he could see of the boy so far. Reality suddenly slammed home for Rick, in that instant. He was **really** going to get a Morty! Before, it was always just a dream, a desire, and then a goal to work toward, but it had always been sort of conceptual—the fact that he'd eventually have a Morty of his own. But as soon as he laid eyes on the little boy with brown hair and big round eyes, sent into that waiting room in order to meet with him—with Rick S-322 **specifically** —it all suddenly felt too real. So real, in fact, that Rick's heart picked up in pace to a staggering degree, and his palms and feet prickled with sudden sweat. Those false starts while Agent found him a Morty in the office, the walk down to that room, and when the door swished open were nothing in comparison to what he felt currently.

A Morty!... **A Morty!**... Holy shit, it was **really** happening!

Agent Rick waved his hands in a gently placating manner toward the little boy behind the love seat. "It's okay, Morty. This is Rick S-three twenty-two. He's looking to adopt you."

Morty's already large eyes rounded out even wider at that. "M...Me?" his small voice squeaked from behind the seat.

Rick's heart skipped not one, but several beats. He'd heard Mortys talking before, knew what they sounded like, and that one definitely sounded the same, but there was a soft sweetness to the kid's voice that had Rick's knees quivering where he stood. One word... **one word** , and Rick was turning into Jell-O.

And reality went and slammed its fist into his face again...because once more, Rick realized that that boy with his soft, sweet voice could soon be his! He'd barely caught a glimpse of the kid, heard him speak **one** word, and already he was questioning why he'd argued to be paired up with some other Morty that was not **that** one—that one right in front of him.

"Yeah, that's right. Don't worry, he's a good guy. I wouldn't have brought him here if he wasn't." When Morty didn't reply and only stared at the strange Rick, Agent decided to move forward a little more and stood in the middle of the rug between all the seats. "Hey, come on out. I haven't seen you in a long time," he coaxed, waving his hand for the boy to come forward.

Large round eyes stared back and forth between the two Ricks in the room before they lingered on Agent. Rising up slowly again, Morty finally stood to full hight behind the love seat.

Rick S-322 had to do a double take. That Morty was so small! He was barely over four feet tall and so thin, his shirt looked like a big bag hanging off of him. Rick imagined the poor kid's ribs were sticking out, and his hipbones were probably hollowed as well, but he couldn't precisely tell that from how oversized the clothes were. The mere fact that they were so loose-fitting alluded to his preconceptions. The kid's hair was a little scruffy to boot, and he looked like he hadn't bathed in weeks. That wraith-like boy could easily pass for a malnourished street urchin!

 **That** was the Morty they wanted to give him? That tiny, dirty, waif of a little boy? He really **did** look like he could snap and fly away if Rick blew on him! As excited as he was to finally have his own Morty, and as interested as he suddenly was in that little boy, the kid's appearance was still a big shock. Didn't they take care of the poor little thing there in the daycare? Was Agent positive that there were no lefty-Ricks that had somehow snuck into the system? The kid looked abused!

"There he is," Agent Rick cooed sweetly, extending his arms outward as if asking for a hug. "Come here, buddy. I haven't seen you in a long time. Come on."

The little Morty smiled bashfully, and after giving Rick one more quick, nervous glance, he hopped and hoisted himself up onto the back of the love seat with what looked like no effort at all, balancing on his haunches, hands between his feet like a perched cat. He wore no shoes or socks, and his pants were just as baggy as his shirt.

Agent Rick smiled warmly at him, knowing any second now, he was going to hear a sound of shock from the S-Rick behind him. But he kept his cool. He had saved the most startling surprise to be revealed in person, instead of blandly reading it from a text file. It was more dramatic that way.

Besides, he had to get **some** entertainment out of his job wherever he could, otherwise, he might have quit a long time ago.

He waved for Morty to come closer, holding his arms out for that hug. "Come on, Morty!" he enthused, grinning.

The little Morty smiled widely back at him and tipped, pushing off and leaping through the air as though it didn't even drag against his form. A pair of large brown wings spread out from behind his back and flapped quickly to slow his momentum before he landed perfectly in Agent Rick's arms and tucked in for a warm, happy snuggle.

"Aw it's good to see you too, buddy," Agent said kindly, holding one arm down under Morty's backside and gently stroking the boy's messy hair with his free hand. He turned with the winged Morty in his arms and wished he had another free hand to snap a picture of the look on the other Rick's face.

Rick S-322 was gaping, both his mouth and his eyes. His shoulders were slack, and his arms dangled limply at his sides. His vast mind had ground to a halt the second those brown-feathered wings unfurled. He stared, dumbfounded for some reason.

Really, he shouldn't have been so surprised, he admonished himself. There were all kinds of Mortys in the multiverse, so why not one that had wings too? Still, it threw him off completely. He was expecting a normal-looking Morty, not one with a different body-type. Not...not that he **minded** or anything...it was just...huh...wow...

Rick's heart was screaming in his chest.

"Rick S-three twenty-two?" Agent Rick said, his voice sounding rather formal. "I'd like you to meet Morty W-five." He looked at the small, winged boy in his arms. "Morty, this Rick would like to adopt you."

"H-Hey...w-wait a minute..." Rick mumbled with a stumbling tongue, reaching a shaking hand up haltingly, "I-I never said I..." What was he **doing**?! He'd told Agent that he was hesitant about being paired with that Morty before he saw him, and now that he'd seen the boy, there was no **way** he wanted to refuse! Why the fuck was he choosing **now** to stick to his fucking guns?! He frowned. Hold on... "Wait...W? I-I've never heard of a W-dimension along the Curve."

Agent smirked and carried Morty a little closer until he felt the boy tense up and duck his head beneath his dark blue blazer. The smirk turning into a full smile, he stopped, several feet away from the other Rick. He watched Rick rake his eyes over Morty's wings and small body and felt smug that he'd made the right choice in pairing them together. He'd have to get the security feed from the room and save it to admire Rick S-322's reaction later.

"I'm not surprised you haven't heard of it. Not many have. There **are** W-dimensions that exist along the Curve, but not many, and of those where there's a Rick entity actually present, they usually stay in their own dimensions and never interact with other Ricks. I'm sure you can guess what the 'W' stands for?" Agent Rick smirked and stroked down one of Morty's brown wings that were tucked tightly against his little back now.

Rick watched the motion, mesmerized. "Uh...y-yeah..." he cleared his throat and shook his head subtly. "Um..."

"Well, don't let me interrupt you two," Agent Rick said suddenly, nudging Morty to lean away from his chest where he'd been tucked and hiding his face in his blazer. "Come on, Morty, no hiding now. This is a nice Rick. That's why he's here for you, okay? I want you to talk to him for a few minutes and get to know him while I draw up the temporary agreement."

"T- **Temporary** agreement?" Rick wondered, quirking his brow.

"You do know there's a 3-day trial period where you live with him and see if you'll be compatible, right?" Agent asked, quirking his own brow in a mirror image.

Rick cleared his throat and reached up to nervously scratch the back of his neck. "I-ah...may have glossed over that part when I read the contract..." he admitted with an innocent roll of his eyes.

Agent Rick shook his head and sighed, turning to gently ease Morty down onto the couch. The boy let go and sat on his own, curling his legs up and wrapping his arms around them defensively. His wings shifted to accommodate the new posture, and they unfurled, curling slightly around either of his sides, the tips hanging down past the edge of the couch cushions.

Rick stared at him, his mouth hanging open a little again.

Sidling up to him, Agent Rick chuckled and pressed his fingers up under the other Rick's chin, closing his mouth for him. " _You wanna keep him...I know you do. I'm never wrong_ ," he whispered quietly to his other self's ear. " _He's one of the rarest Mortys in the multiverse, and if you ask me..._ " he leaned in a little closer, whispering even quieter, " _...one of the cutest._ " He drew away, watching a tremor shimmy down Rick's body and a gulp bob his adam's apple dramatically. He swatted the guy's arm to jolt him to attention and smirked at him. " _Don't be a pervert._ "

Rick shook his head vehemently, lifting both hands in arrest, his eyes wide and his mouth sealed into a straight line.

Agent Rick only laughed at him heartily, enjoying taking the piss out of the other old man. He turned to Morty who was watching them curiously. "Okay, Morty, I'll be back," he said, walking over and kneeling on the floor in front of him on one knee, propping an elbow to the knee still elevated. "Don't be afraid of this guy, okay? Give him a chance. He's a nice Rick."

Morty's eyes darted toward the other Rick, staring with concern lifting his thin eyebrows.

"It'll be okay," Agent told him softly, hooking a finger under his small chin and lifting to gain his attention again. "It'll be okay, Morty."

Morty swallowed, quickly glanced at the other Rick, then nodded.

"Good boy," Rick praised him and stroked his messy brown hair. He stood and made his way toward the exit, lifting an arm up in a noncommittal wave. "I'll be back with that temp agreement. You guys get to know each other. Later!" And he was gone, the door swishing closed again quietly.

Rick S-322 swallowed thickly and turned his gaze back to Morty, sitting curled up on the couch like a frightened baby bird. He was sure the kid was feeling even more nervous about the situation than he was, so he decided to be the adult in the room and start things off. He cleared his throat quietly first, though.

"Um...h-hi..." he began and felt like a fucking moron. He sounded so unsure of himself.

Morty responded, though, looking up at him nervously, but not entirely without fear. "H...H-Hi..." his small, soft voice eked out.

' _Fucking adorable..._ ' was the unbidden thought that smacked hard against the inside of Rick's skull.

He had to clear his throat again.

"Um...sooo..." he tried, stuffing his hands into his lab coat pockets. "How...how long have you been here?" Would it scare the kid if he smacked himself on the forehead? His years of solitude and avoidance of interacting with new people were really showing. Damn it, he really hated making small talk with strangers like that.

"Um..." Morty mumbled, tucking his chin between his knees as he stared at Rick. "O-Over a year...I-I think..."

"Hmm..." Rick hummed thoughtfully. At least the kid was talking to him and not running away to hide like a scared animal or something. He slid his eyes along those interesting wings again. Make that a scared bird.

Carefully, he stepped forward, noting the boy tensing and a quick rustle of his wings. He held a placating hand out and moved slower until he reached one of the single leather chairs and sat down in it, across from the couch, so as to keep some distance between them. It seemed Morty was more comfortable that way.

"Do you like it here?" he asked, just to keep the conversation going.

Morty looked down at the rug, his shoulders and even his wings sagging around him. "N-Not really..." he mumbled quietly.

"Oh, uh...okay. Um..." He looked around the room, trying to rack his brain to come up with something to talk about. He swore he could hear pool balls rattling around in there. His icy grey eyes landed on the snack table, and an idea finally formed. "Hey, you-uh, you hungry?" he asked, thumbing toward the food and drinks. "Want me to get you somethin'?"

"N-No thanks," Morty replied. His large eyes remained fixed on Rick, and it was starting to make him feel a little uncomfortable.

"Oh, okay... Well...y-you seem kinda um...you know..." He cupped a hand behind the back of his neck and averted his eyes nervously. "Scrawny. Are they not feeding you here?"

The boy tilted his head a bit to the side as though a curious little bird.

' _So fucking cute..._ ' Rick's mind rattled out at the sight.

"They f-feed me okay. Storage Rick always brings me my meals himself," Morty told him quietly.

"Ah. So that sounds like you get special treatment, huh? Room service or something?"

"Not really..." Morty mumbled sagging again, dejectedly. "I-I have to stay by myself in a little room all the time. I can't eat m-meals with all the other Mortys. Or—Or play with them and stuff."

Rick quirked his unibrow, leaning forward and resting his forearms on his knees. "Really? Why?"

The boy shrugged and let one arm slide down to dally his fingers between his toes. Rick just then noticed that the digits were slightly longer than normal toes, and the nails looked like they came to very subtle hooked points.

"I break too easy..." was all he said after a minute of silence.

' _Oh,_ ' Rick thought, eyes widening in realization. ' _He's got hollow bones...makes flying with those wings easier... Shit, now it all makes sense. I'm putting the genius of Rick Sanchez to shame today, fuck._ '

"So...so you have to stay in a room all by yourself all the time?" he asked softly.

Morty only nodded in answer.

Rick frowned. He didn't like that answer. He didn't like how that little bird-boy was sitting, curled up on himself as though filled with fear, shame, and sadness. He looked like a bird whose wings had been clipped, preventing him from finding the simple joy of flight. And he looked lonely. Rick could relate to that all too easily. It made him want to open his arms the way Agent Rick had and invite the boy into his embrace. He wanted to comfort the little tyke and maybe even stroke those wings like the other guy had. The poor kid looked like he could use a little empathy.

Rick S-322 sighed. Well, according to the agency's testing, he had a lot of empathy to give. And he supposed they were right.

"Don't worry, kid," he said gently, kindness warming his voice. "As long as we can get along for a couple days, you won't have to worry about coming back here and getting locked in a little room again."

Morty perked up at that, lifting his chin away from his knees and staring across at Rick with piqued interest.

"I got a nice place back in my dimension. I think you'll really like it, ya know? It's way out in the woods, nobody for miles and miles."

Morty's round eyes widened a little more.

"Trees as far as the eye can see," Rick went on, waving a hand grandiosely. "And wide open skies. You could really stretch those wings out there."

"You...you'd...l-let me f-fly?" Morty wondered, stars bursting to life in his shining blue eyes.

Rick smiled kindly at him. "Sure, Morty. What's the point of having those cool wings, if you can't fly with 'em?"

Those bright stars shimmered in the boy's eyes as they glossed over. "You...th-think my wings are...c-cool?"

"Duh Morty, they're rockin'! Check that shit out, man! Fuckin' wings motha-fuckah!" Rick enthused bombastically, raising both hands in the air. "You can flap-flap 'em around all you want at my place!"

Morty sniffled and wore a lopsided grin, suspended between hope and disbelief. "R-Really?"

"Fuck yeah, kid! Check you out, Morty—the coolest Morty around! The rarest Morty! Holy fuck, did I get the luckiest draw or what? Those wings are amazing, bro! Match your hair and everything! So cool! Fucking awesome!"

A small hiccup halted Rick's rant immediately, and he stared across at that little Morty, crying and wiping at his wet face.

"Oh...oh, hey...hey don-don't do that... Um...I-I was complimenting you, ya know? Hey, no..." Rick slid off the brown leather chair and moved carefully closer, easing down to his knees in front of Morty's curled form on the couch.

"I'm s-sorry..." Morty mumbled between soft sobs, hiding his face in his knees. His wings lifted and curled around his head, blocking himself from Rick's sight.

"No, no, d-don't cry, okay, Morty? I...uhgh..." Rick slumped, staring with worry at the crying winged boy and hoping he hadn't ruined everything already. He thought he was being nice, dammit! "I didn't mean to upset you, Morty," he said, defeat in his tone.

"I-It's not th-that..." Morty mumbled from under his wings and behind his knees. "It's j-just..." he sniffed hard, snorking up the snot that was running out his nose, "I-I'm ha-happy!" He cried harder for a minute and Rick sighed with relief. "Y-You're so n-nice... You re-remind me of m-my Rick."

That made Rick S-322 feel a little awkward, but at least he knew he hadn't bungled things with the kid before they had even started.

Morty slowly drew his brown feathered wings back and lifted his reddened, wet face. He stared at Rick with a mix of hope and unease, and that gaze broke Rick Sanchez completely.

He wanted that Morty. He had to have him. He would never be satisfied unless that little winged Morty was his. Fuck everybody who ever made that sweet little thing cry—ignoring his own self that had just done so.

He reached into his lab coat, searching through several pockets until he came up with a white handkerchief. Gingerly, he extended it toward the sniffling boy, but held it a few inches away, waiting for some sign that it was okay to continue.

Morty sniffed and swallowed thickly, staring at the cloth in that Rick's hand, then at Rick himself. He let out a small whimper and closed his eyes in acceptance, and when Rick brushed the handkerchief along his cheek tenderly, the old man couldn't have been more elated...until the small boy tilted his face and nuzzled into the cloth and in turn Rick's hand.

' _Holy fucking shit, this kid's the cutest fucking thing I've ever seen!_ ' his mind screamed, reeling.

Carefully and trying not to apply too much pressure, he wiped at the tears and snot on the boy's face then tossed the cloth aside onto the seat of the couch. He smiled at Morty, and Morty smiled back.

"We cool, dawg?" Rick asked hopefully.

Morty giggled and nodded, sniffing a little more. "S-S'all good, bro..." he mumbled quietly, shyly.

A grin spread over Rick's thin lips, and he opened them to say something. Before he could utter a sound, the door to the room slid open with hissing air and Agent Rick walked back in, holding his electronic pad.

"Okay, I got the temporary agreement here, I just need—" he stopped advancing, eyeing up the two—Morty, who was sitting on the couch, and Rick, who was kneeling on the floor in front of him. "Am I interrupting something?" he asked, amusement in his tone and a quirk to his lips.

Morty blushed immediately and scrambled way from Rick, leaping hands first over the armrest of the couch and landing like a cat. He rushed over to Agent Rick and hopped up into his arms, hiding his red face in the older man's blazer again.

Rick couldn't help the sting of jealousy, but he stifled it quickly as he stood up with a soft grunt and creaky knees. Morty barely knew him yet—they had only just met—of course he'd run to someone more familiar if they came into the room. He just hoped that with time, **he** would be the one the boy ran to.

He watched the little bird-like Morty snuggle in close and try to hide inside Agent Rick's jacket, his adorable brown wings tucked tightly against his back and hanging down far past his butt. He just then noticed how Morty's little feet with slightly longer toes helped him to cling onto Agent's clothes at his waist.

' _So. Fucking. Cuuuute!_ ' Rick screamed in his head. ' _This kid's gonna be the death of me!_ '

"Isss...everything okay here?" Agent Rick asked, concerned by Morty's rampant shyness and how fast he ran way from the other Rick.

"Well, yeah...at least I thought so," Rick said, shrugging and looking at Morty.

The boy slowly emerged from Agent's blazer and nodded, his face flushed with embarrassment.

"You sure?" Agent Rick had to ask.

"H-He's nice," Morty told him shyly, nodding more.

"Okay, well, then. If everything's fine, then you guys are free to head back to dimension S-three twenty-two. Here's the rules for the trial period," he said, handing the electronic pad to the other Rick. "In short," he began as S-322 glanced over it, "Stay in your home dimension. You can have one, short, small off-world adventure that you can pick from a predetermined list so that you can get a feel for your adventuring dynamic. Other than that, maybe get some ice cream or something. This is time meant for you to get to know each other in a home and adventure setting to make sure you're both fully compatible. Don't fuck it up," he said, looking pointedly at Rick.

Rick nodded, lifting his hands in mock arrest.

Agent sighed and nodded, patting Morty's head fondly. "See you in three days."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rick finally got to meet Morty W-005, the little Morty with wings! I hope you like him too! He was really fun to create, and there's a lot more in store for him later. ;)
> 
> Thank you for reading so far! I hope you're enjoying it! There's much more to come, so if you like the story so far, please come back soon! Thanks again!


	3. Trial by Morty

"Okay, so, let me show you around the place," Rick said after the swirling green portal closed behind himself and his hopefully soon-to-be Morty. "I guess it would be a good idea, since you'll be staying for a couple days." He walked ahead and turned to face the small winged Morty and swept his arm in a general circle around himself. "This is my lab," he informed the boy.

Morty looked around, first with amazement twinkling in his large round eyes, then with confusion. They stood in the center of a large concrete floor in a room with a fat, blocky "7" shape. The wall along the left had two metal doors on it, one that was large and looked about the size of a garage door, and the other was a normal-sized, motion-activated sliding door. To the right were rows of metal shelving and a couple high-tech storage bins with sleek edges and slight angles. They looked like a "Rick" design. The wall behind Morty held a large, silver, roll-up garage door.

Ahead, there was a workbench to the left, behind the area where the large and small doors were, that wrapped around the top of the "7" shape of the room, forming a squared "c" shape with an extended top. A grey cushioned, silver metal stool on casters sat along the bench, providing easy seated mobility between the work areas. Above and below the workbenches along the walls were lots of cabinets, drawers, and a couple pegboards with various tools stored on display. Much of the work surfaces were occupied by beakers and test tubes, along with wires and metal parts of projects partway though production.

The wall along the right on the upper half of the room had blueprints and designs tacked all over it with various shaped and sized magnets, and a white board on casters sat comfortably along the back wall between the end of the workbench and the blueprint-covered section. There was also one other door there, between the blueprints and metal shelving.

All of the walls were a clean, creamy white metal, not wood and plaster, and there were no visible studs like in the garage he used to have back home. The whole room was also quite large, and there was even enough space for a vehicle to park, but there was none there.

"Um...th-this doesn't look like the regular garage. Don't a-all Ricks have a—a garage?" Morty asked quietly. He shrugged into himself and looked tiny in comparison to the room in which he stood.

Rick chuckled and smirked at him, propping one hand to his hip and shrugging. "True, they usually do. But those are Ricks that live at the Smith house in their dimension. This isn't a Smith house. It's all mine."

Morty's gaze wandered the room while Rick spoke, but looked directly at him when he was finished. "Wow, so...you—you don't live with your Beth and family in this dimension?"

It was an innocent question, but it still made the smile fall from Rick's face. He stood straighter and crossed his arms, clearing his throat. "No."

"Oh..." Morty mumbled, shrugging into himself a little further. He got the vibe that Rick wasn't happy about something, and he was pretty sure it was his fault for some inexplicable reason.

"Anyway," Rick said suddenly, turning and thumbing toward the two doors situated on the left-hand wall. "The bigger door is a lift and the smaller one is a stairwell into the sub-lab which has several floors to it. Don't go down there unless I say so. There's dangerous shit down here."

Morty nodded immediately.

"This other door leads into the house. Come on, I'll show you." Rick turned toward the right and stepped up to another motion-activated door. It looked heavy and reinforced, but it slid open like it weighed nothing, revealing a rather normal-looking, classically-modern home on the other side.

Rick led Morty through the door and into the kitchen. It was clean with oak flooring and light cream-colored walls. A set of dark oak wood-stained counters and cabinets with a stove and microwave were to the left, along with a fridge that sat in the corner, tucked in with them. An island was opposite the stove and counters, though, instead of being more wooden cabinets, it was a strange device of Rick-design with a smooth top to serve as more counter space. Another set of counters and cabinets rested along the right wall, directly in line with the lab door, among which was a dishwasher and sink. There was only one small table with two chairs facing each other next to the wall on the other end of the room. Off to the left was a large, sliding glass patio door that looked out toward a back yard with a plain concrete slab, grass, then trees beyond.

Morty stared out those doors in longing wonder, and Rick did not fail to notice. He smiled knowingly, but chose to ignore it for the moment. He pointed out various things, all of which Morty had already taken note of, except the island contraption.

"That's my food synthesizer," Rick explained. "When I don't feel like cooking something more elaborate than a bowl of soup or a sandwich, I use that to make my meals. One hundred percent real food, one hundred percent safe to consume. Lots of interstellar travel ships use my design for long trips so they don't have to haul perishable foods with them. Thing's made me a hefty sum over the years." He grinned and winked at Morty, holding up the "OK" sign with his fingers.

The boy smiled at him, still not totally at ease with a new Rick, but fine enough to go along with him. They were supposed to get to know each other, after all.

Rick waved for him to follow and led him through the open, squared archway into the brown-carpeted living room to the right of the kitchen. There was a large, flat-screen TV on a built-in shelving unit along the wall separating the lab from the house as well as several different movie players and game systems stacked on the shelves below it. On either side of the TV stand were more built-in shelves stacked with movies, video games, and even a couple books. Facing the TV was a three-section grey upholstered couch with a matching chair sat perpendicular to it, the back of it facing the wall to the kitchen. A teal woven blanket was draped over the back of the couch and another blanket was draped over the arm of the chair. In front of the couch and chair set was a rectangular wooden coffee table that had seen its fair share of use. The wood was worn around the edges and the surface held multiple overlapping ring stains from sweating glasses or spilled drinks. Another, matching, but smaller table sat beside the chair, sporting its own sets of stains and heavy use.

The front door to the house was actually a normal wooden door with a small set of two rectangular windows lining the top. Near it was one large picture window, framed by open drapes, showing a clean-cut front lawn and trees out beyond.

There were no decorations as far as Morty could see. Everything was bare bones and not very materialistic save for the movies, games, and books. There weren't even photos on the flat, cream-colored walls. Not even a couple simple framed paintings.

Again, Rick pointed things out that Morty had already committed to memory.

"You can watch TV if you want in a little bit or whatever. I got an interdimensional cable box hooked up to it, so you can watch anything in the multiverse. I also got some pretty good games," he said, waving toward the built-in shelving. "Through that door is my bedroom, and there's a small bathroom on the left in there. Neither are very big, and they're pretty basic, so there's no need to stroll through them right now." He pointed to a wooden door on the wall perpendicular with the front door. "You gotta use the bathroom, just go for it, it's through there," he concluded, hands to his hips, satisfied with the little tour of his small, one story home.

"O-Okay," Morty mumbled, nervously looking around and holding his arms tucked up against his chest, wings pressed tightly against his back. He had no idea what to do now, what to say. Rick had told him it was okay to watch TV or play a game, but he felt too awkward in the new surroundings to just go over and start messing with things. Oh, geez, what if he broke something?!

Morty felt like a bundle of nerves and tried hard to keep his frail limbs from shaking.

Then he heard it—the soft swish of a breeze rustling through the branches and leaves of trees. He turned and stared out the living room window, round blue eyes rounding out even further. When was the last time he had seen such a wondrous view? When was the last time he had felt a real breeze on his face, the rush of wind, the sweet scents of the outdoors—

"H-Hey, Morty!" Rick's voice called, and he whirled, startled out of his reverie.

The old man was standing in the kitchen by the patio door and waving for him to come over. The door was wide open and Rick was smiling warmly.

"Come—Come on, Morty! You gotta see my fucking awesome back yard, dawg!"

A nervous smile quirked the boy's lips, and he eagerly trotted over. Rick waved for him to exit, and he did so, timidly stepping through the patio door and onto the warm concrete slab that served as a very basic back deck.

"So...what do you think?" Rick's voice asked from behind him, but Morty couldn't be bothered to turn around in that moment.

He stared in wonder at the huge expanse of land, probably an entire acre of simple mowed grass. Beyond, on all sides, was a forest of various deciduous and conifer trees, all lazily dancing in a warm, gentle wind. The smell of freshly-cut grass filled his senses as well as sweet bursts of flowery fragrances drifting through the breeze. Fluffy white clouds floated lazily through the bright blue sky, and Morty's eyes watered at not only how bright the outside world was, but how breathtaking it all was as well.

His heart pounded, and he wanted to leap for joy.

"I know it's simple, but...there's lots of space out here, ya know?" Rick went on, suddenly sounding a little nervous with Morty's lack of response.

"Oh, Rick!" Morty exclaimed, turning to him suddenly as though just remembering he existed. "It's amazing!" He fisted his little hands at chest level in excitement and was practically bouncing with energy suddenly.

Realizing things were actually fine, Rick smiled down at him and spread his arms wide, looking up toward the sky. "Well, Morty? Why don't you try it out, huh?"

Morty froze, eyes as big as saucers. "R...R-Really? You'd...l-l-let me f-fly?"

Rick turned his beaming smile, brighter than the actual sun, down to the little Morty and nodded. "Sure, kid. I told you you could when we met in that Greet room, remember?"

Morty couldn't believe his ears—couldn't believe his luck. After over a year of being cooped up inside a small room in the Citadel daycare, he was finally back on Earth with bright, wide-open skies above him and an invitation to soar through them. He only hoped the muscles of his wings hadn't atrophied too much, or he'd have a hard time getting around.

"Are you...a-are you r-really sure, Rick?" he asked again—had to know, had to make sure.

Rick's smile turned much gentler, and he knelt down on his haunches in front of the little winged boy. His eyes and voice were filled with gentle kindness when he said softly, "Of course I'm sure, Morty. Now you go up there and you fly all around for as long as you want. Just-uh..." He looked down at the concrete for a moment, and when he looked back up, his expression had turned a little more anxious. "Just come back, okay? Like...before sundown or something. I'll-uh...I-I'll cook some dinner for us while you soar around, okay? You-um...you like grilled cheese? I can't cook a whole lot, but I make a pretty mean grilled cheese. It's like...the only thing I'm really good at, traditionally cooking-wise."

Morty nodded emphatically, all of his nervousness slowly bleeding away to be replaced with excitement and anticipation for his stay with that new Rick. Was that really what it would be like to live with that Rick? Flying whenever he wanted, gooey grilled cheese sandwiches, and interdimensional cable?...whatever that was. He couldn't wait to start! He wanted to fly so badly!

Rick smiled more. "Go on, then. Be back in like...an hour, okay? Here." He pulled up his shirt sleeve and unhooked his high-tech watch. He set a safety lock on the laser and pressed a button so the time was displayed on the small screen. "An hour, okay, Morty? I'll make sure dinner will be ready. The sun will be going down about then, okay? Don't get lost, buddy," he instructed as he carefully strapped the watch to the boy's tiny wrist.

"O-Okay, Rick," Morty said happily, eyeing the device on his wrist. It felt heavy but warm, and it was so very pleasant. A little shiver raced through his body and ruffled his feathers slightly when the thought that the watch had been warmed by Rick's body heat struck home. He cupped the device against his chest and felt his face heating up a little.

"Go on," Rick shooed, standing back up and crossing his arms, ending the conversation and expecting Morty to finally get going.

The boy grinned up at him, their hight difference monstrous, especially for how tall Ricks were, but he did not feel intimidated in his excitement. He turned and trotted out a little into the yard. A moment was taken to revel in the soft dirt and thin blades of grass pressing down under his slender feet, and then he was spreading his wings out as far as they could, stretching more than he had in so long, he could barely remember anymore. More than a year was such a long time to be boxed in for someone with wings that were meant for soaring.

Morty flexed his long, fluffy, brown wings, extending the primary flight feathers and feeling the wind catch on them. He flapped them several times, trying to loosen them up as they were very stiff from non-use, then finally squatted onto his haunches. His eyes on the skies, he sprung up into the air and spread his wings wide, catching a breeze and gliding into it. He pumped his wings hard, immediately feeling the strain in his underused muscles, but determinedly propelled himself higher into the air, up over the tree line and beyond into the wide open sky.

Elation filled his little chest, and his heart pitter-pattered against his hollow breastbone. It felt so good! He felt so alive! The wind under his wings, the sky and clouds up above, and the green land down below—it was like a dream come true! Tears budded at the corners of his eyes and slipped over his cheeks, partially from the wind in his face and partially from joy. They were flung from the sides of his face and off his little ears with the rush of wind as his light body sailed through the air, raining sparse droplets of saltwater to the grass far below.

Morty circled above the house on a warm current of air. Rick's place wasn't very big at all, and it was just a rectangular building with a gabled slate-grey, metal roof with one vent above the kitchen and another where he assumed the bathroom was. In being above, he sailed around the front of the house and noticed another slab of concrete there to the left, in front of where the lab was. On there was parked some kind of car, but it was hard to see all the details from so high up.

Moving on, Morty sailed through the warm current back around to the back of the building and caught sight of Rick standing on the concrete slab there, staring up into the sky at him and shading his eyes. He laughed aloud and waved heartily, elated to see him for some reason. He felt happiness swell in his chest when Rick waved back.

His joy was boundless, and he wanted to experience more. He angled away and soared out over the treetops, flapping his already sore wings occasionally to keep aloft. The house was out of sight a moment later, but he didn't care about that or the burning ache in his back and wings, determined to fly higher and higher until he felt the mist of the clouds cool his skin. His baggy clothes flapped in the high winds, not especially aerodynamic, but not keeping him from enjoying himself. They dampened a bit as he darted in and out of the clouds.

Morty giggled and soared, for once in so long, finally able to truly be free and forget his woes, at least for a while.

Rick watched with baited breath as Morty finally moved away and into the grass. His icy grey eyes widened, observing for the first time the boy extending his wings fully and flexing them about to loosen them up. ' _Holy shit, the kid is a work of art,_ ' he thought, watching the feathers spread and flutter a bit in the breeze. Those wings were amazing, beautiful, and they looked fantastic on that small-framed Morty. Malnourished as the kid seemed to be, with too-big clothes that hung off of his tiny frame, his face was slender and pretty. Who could tell what he looked like under those baggy rags, whether he was skin and bones or not. Rick wanted to know, though. He wanted to know...purely out of concern for the boy's health, of course.

It was only after Morty extended his wings fully in the sunlight that Rick was able to truly observe the feather pattern and their color. They were a medium brown color, the color of a Morty's hair, but they faded into a slightly darker tone toward the tips of the primary and secondary flight feathers. The short, fluffy, feathers along the upper edge of the wings were also a tad lighter in comparison. They appeared more of a dry dirt color rather than slightly damp dirt like the rest of the feathers. Though, Rick felt bad comparing those beautiful wings to shades of dirt, but colors were colors after all.

Morty flapped those wings a few times, and Rick could hear them beating the air. Then the boy hunkered down in a squat, then leapt up, pumping his wings to gain hight and momentum until he was casually soaring around the house in a lazy circle. He was probably riding a warm air current, Rick surmised idly, shading his eyes as he stared upward, fascinated with watching the little Morty in flight. The kid circled the house a few times and Rick noticed him waving happily, the distant sounds of giggling floating down toward him like airborne dandelion tufts.

' _Fucking angelic..._ ' his mind supplied without his direct instruction.

Smirking, he lifted an arm and waved back. ' _So damn cute,_ ' he thought. ' _Just like a little boy trying to get a parent's attention while he's on a theme park ride._ '

Rick frowned slightly and lowered his arm. He didn't want to be a parental figure for the kid. He was no good at fathering, if his failed experiment known as Beth was any indication. Only after he was out of her life did she become her own person and get a doctorate in medicine. Of course, he only left after...

Rick forcefully derailed that train of thought as he watched Morty soar away over the treetops and lost sight of him. Shit. He sighed. Oh well, the kid was wearing his watch so he could tell the time. It was just also convenient that there was a tracking device in it too, so if it were to come down to it, he'd be able to locate the little fella.

Turning, Rick reentered the house and slid the glass door closed. Slowly, he meandered around the kitchen and pulled out the necessary implements to cook grilled cheese sandwiches. It wouldn't take long to prepare them, but he had nothing else to do while he waited rather impatiently for Morty to return.

Distracted and thrilled as he was to finally be up amongst the clouds again, Morty did pay attention to the time on his borrowed watch. He didn't want to get into trouble with Rick for not obeying his first real "command", even though it was more of an earnest suggestion. Rick seemed very nice and Morty didn't want to upset him. So, disappointed that his hour was almost up, Morty sailed back toward the house. A little worry itched at his stomach when he couldn't locate the place right away, but soon enough, the green grass clearing with the small rectangle house sitting in the center came into view, and he exhaled loudly in relief.

His wings beat against the current of wind a lot weaker than they had when he first took off. He was getting very tired, and his wings were already sore from using them for the first time in forever. Fearful sweat formed on his brow, and he angled himself to slice through the air a little more cleanly. If a heavy gust overtook him, he'd be thrown back and probably tumble to a very painful landing. Luck was on his side, however, as the house came closer and closer and no heavy winds tousled with his flight.

A tiny figure emerged from the back door of the house and stood on the concrete slab outside. Morty smiled, his little heart picking up its already frantic pace. Rick was coming out to meet him and watch his landing! He had to make sure he didn't fumble things up and try to appear as cool as possible. Rick had said he liked his wings, after all. He suddenly wanted to impress him.

Sailing downward on his final approach, Morty whizzed past a wide-eyed Rick, casting his shadow over him in the waning light of day. He circled around the yard low and beat his wings rapidly, slowing his momentum and swinging his legs forward, coming in for a landing. But he was tired and his wings and back hurt, weakened from such extended non-use, and his feet caught in the grass. He wavered and pitched forward, squeaking in alarm, then tucked into a tight ball and rolled shoulder first, end over end, until sliding to a stop on his belly several yards away from Rick in the grass.

"Morty!" Rick cried, rushing over immediately and kneeling at his side. His large trembling hand moved toward the boy's small, thin shoulder, but hesitated in that last inch, afraid to touch the kid and somehow worsen any injuries he may have had.

"Uuugh..." Morty moaned and weakly struggled up onto his elbows. Nothing felt broken, thank goodness, even though he felt like he'd just taken a trip through a clothes dryer.

"Are—Are you okay?? Are you hurt? Are they—" Rick fretted, reaching a still trembling hand toward Morty's frazzled wings.

The boy jerked and pulled them back, flapping them weakly in instinctual warning and startling Rick into withdrawing. Immediately, he felt bad, but he was so sore and tired and emotionally strung out from being thrust into a new environment that he didn't want to be touched at all. That Rick was nice, but he still wasn't sure if he could be completely trusted. After all...everyone he'd ever encountered after being taken to the Citadel had been much too big and strong to handle him without causing him harm. Especially Ricks. Even just a slightly more than firm grip on his arm would cause immediate painful bruising, and anything more heavy-handed would snap him like a twig. Only Storage Rick and Agent Rick had gentle enough hands to not break him. So, just to save himself a trip to the ER, Morty had quickly learned to avoid being touched at all. In that regard, his isolation in the Morty Daycare had been a blessing as well as a curse.

"I'm—I'm okay," he mumbled, avoiding eye-contact. Damn, how embarrassing. His first flight with the first Rick he had been paired with at the Morty-doption Agency, and he fumbled the stupid landing.

"A-Are you sure? No-Nothing's broken or anything?" Rick worried, eyes raking all over Morty's small body and checking for any serious damage. He just looked a little scraped up and grass-stained, but he couldn't be too sure. Those baggy clothes were really starting to become an issue.

"Yeah," Morty assured, sitting up and sighing.

He rubbed a few blades of grass out of his hair, and Rick's breath caught silently in his lungs. He hadn't noticed before, but now that he was so close to the boy in an abundance of light, he finally saw that Morty's hair wasn't actually "hair". It was layers upon thick layers of strands that looked like hair, but upon closer inspection, they more resembled long strands of down. Only when smoothed down did they appear like normal short Morty hair. Now, they were ruffled and messy, and he could see some of the individual feathered strands sticking out in odd directions. They looked wispy and fragile—like, well, down—and Rick had to wonder if they were just as soft. It **looked** soft, anyway.

That little Morty was only getting more and more fascinating...and adorable.

The small boy sat there in the grass, dirty and panting, his scruffy wings drooping limply behind his back and laying out on the ground. Rick wanted so badly to run his fingers through Morty's feathered "hair" to find out how soft it really was, and, of course, to comfort him from the fall he seemed embarrassed over, but he held back and sat back onto his haunches.

"Okay, well-um..." he began, scratching at his starfish-shaped silvery-blue hair with awkward nervousness. "Well, let's get you inside and cl-cleaned up. I have dinner ready, and you look real hungry."

Morty nodded with relief and struggled up onto his feet. "O-Okay, Rick. That—That sounds real good." He smiled, trying to diffuse the situation and move on from his embarrassment quickly.

"Come on, then," Rick said, getting to his own feet and leading the boy back into the house.

He ushered him through the kitchen and living room, then into his private bedroom and further along into the small, ensuite bathroom. There was just a shower stall, toilet, and sink in there, along with a couple cabinets where bathroom supplies and towels were kept. Rick took out a washcloth and towel and laid them on the closed toilet lid.

"Okay, kid, I know there isn't much room in here, but go ahead and take a quick shower. I'll find something for you to wear and keep dinner warm 'till you're done. Deal?"

Smiling, Morty nodded. "Th-Thanks, Rick," he mumbled quietly, ducking his head down shyly.

"Come out to the kitchen when you're done," Rick told him, then made himself scarce from the room.

The shower was cramped but refreshing, and at least Morty was able to wash out the dirt and grass stains from his skin and feathery hair. His wings were a different story, though. He could barely unfurl them in such a small space, so he scrubbed where he could reach and left it at that.

He found some clothes laid out on the sink when he exited the stall. A white tank top with a very low-cut back and a pair of small grey sweatpants that were still too big for him. He was very thankful for them, though. He was so tired of wearing the same baggy yellow T-shirt and bluejeans that were made for a normal-sized Morty. In being so short and thin, regular-sized Morty clothes hung off of him so much it looked like he had been hit by a low-budget shrink ray that stopped part-way through reducing his size. He figured it would be low-budget, because if it was one of Rick's shrink rays, his clothes would have reduced with him.

Morty found Rick in the kitchen, sitting at the small table in the chair facing the living room. The older man had a bored look and was impatiently tapping a finger on the solid wood surface, but as soon as he spotted the little brown-feathered boy peeking out of his room, he perked up and smiled.

"Heeey, Morty, come on," he encouraged, waving to the seat opposite of himself. He uncovered a plate that was sitting on the middle of the table, revealing ooey-gooey grilled cheese sandwiches, still steaming hot and crispy. They were all sliced in half diagonally and piled high in a mound of golden toasted bread and cheesy perfection. "Dig in, buddy!"

Feeling drool escape the corner of his mouth, Morty quickly wiped it up and hopped into the chair. A covered bowl was in front of him, and he gingerly removed the lid, revealing steaming warm tomato soup, thick, smooth, and creamy—the perfect consistency for dipping grilled cheese into.

"Wow, Rick," he cooed in amazement. "Th-This looks great!"

"Eat as much as you want, Morty. I can always whip up some more, if I need to," Rick told him kindly, dipping his own sandwich half into some soup and taking a big bite.

Morty didn't have to be told twice. His rampant shyness couldn't outweigh his rampant hunger, and the spread before him was too delicious-looking to ignore.

They ate in silence for a while, at least as silent as things could be at mealtime. Morty continuously made little coos and moans of delight as he ate the perfectly prepared food, and Rick found himself in a bit of a predicament. Those little noises were wearing down his body's defenses, and he found it very difficult to look at the kid. Besides, with the view he **did** get when the boy walked over and sat down, it was nearly too much for his old heart to handle. Glowing pale skin with that fresh-from-the-shower glaze across his partially exposed upper chest, an alluring flush to his cheeks...and the way that loose tank top slid a bit to the side when he climbed into the chair, partially revealing one supple pink nipple...

Rick attacked his food a little more aggressively.

Morty's little body was a lot healthier than he had originally thought. Despite being only just over four feet tall and so thin he could slip through anything just large enough for his head, his complexion shone and his flesh was stretched taut over just enough lean muscle and a smidgen of fat that it all made him look soft and pliant. Not to say he didn't look frail as fuck, though.

But the way Morty looked right then, with a loose white tank top hanging off of his tiny frame, and his wings spread out just enough to hang on either side of the chair, he looked like a delicate angel, sent to keep an old man company at his dinner table.

Rick's heart would not calm down, no matter how many slow, deep breaths he was discreetly taking. He stared down at his food, giving it the most attention he'd ever given a meal in his life, afraid to look back up at that vision across from him. He was afraid if he did, he'd get a little too tingly in his britches, and there would be no way to explain away something like that if he needed to stand up suddenly.

So he tried to make some small talk.

"Do you-uh...like those clothes I found? I-I know they don't fit you very good, but-um... If—If you want, I can make you some clothes. They'll fit you a lot better and stuff." He pointedly stared at his bowl of soup and dipped another sandwich into it.

"Th-They're okay, Rick," Morty told him, smiling across the table. "They—They fit a lot better than those other ones. A-And I don't have to cut holes in the shirt for my w-wings to stick out."

Rick nodded, considering that. "Okay, Morty," he said, finally looking up and returning the smile. "I-I'll make you some better clothes. No biggie. You—You should have clothes that fit you anyway. The baggy look was so mid to late '90s."

Morty giggled and Rick had to look away again immediately. The boy had such a soft, sweet giggle, and Rick bit into his sandwich in order to prevent himself from biting into his own lip.

Soon after, dinner was over, and Morty was yawning and rubbing his full belly, slumped over in the chair. Rick gently encouraged him out of the seat, mindful not to touch him since the kid seemed to tense when he got closer, and escorted him back into his dim bedroom.

"Here, Morty. It's late, time for bed. You can sleep in here tonight." Rick pulled back the ruffled green blankets on his bed and motioned for Morty to climb in.

"Oh...I...I-I don't...uh..." the boy stuttered, shrugging into himself in embarrassment.

"It's fine, Morty. I have shit I need to work on in the lab, and I know I won't be sleeping for another couple hours anyway. Hop on in and get some shut-eye."

Well...since it was Rick, and Rick had told him to...

Morty very cautiously climbed onto the bed and sat in the center, tucking his wings tightly behind his back and curling his legs up and hugging them. It seemed like a pose he was used to assuming by default.

Rick drew the blankets in closer and held them in front of the boy, silently urging him to lay down so he could cover the kid up. Morty did so, slowly, eyes on Rick's hands holding the blanket as they drew it over his small form.

Satisfied that the kid was tucked in, Rick smiled and stood to full hight, hands on his hips and feeling triumphant for some reason. "Okay, Morty, you get some sleep. I-I'll see you in the morning."

"O-Okay, Rick..."

Turning, the older man made his way to the door.

"Rick?" Morty's small voice called, halting him in his tracks.

Rick looked back, eyebrow raised in question.

"Th-Thank you..." that small voice said again, just shy of whispering.

A wide smile pulled at Rick's thin lips, and he nodded subtly. "Sure thing, Morty. 'Night."

"'Night, Rick."

Finally leaving, Rick closed the door softly, leaving Morty to get some rest after such a long and eventful day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is confused about the layout of Rick's house and lab (because I think I kind of failed to describe it properly), I drew up a crappy pencil sketch of the floor plan that I can add here for reference. Please let me know if that's something you'd be interested in seeing. Thank you for reading!
> 
> EDIT: A couple people have expressed interest in seeing Rick's house layout, so I'll put the link for it here. Thank you for your interest, and I'm sorry it's so crappy. I do draw better than this, I swear. XD It was just for reference purposes so I'd stay consistent. Also, enjoy the little Christmas penguin! I drew on a themed notepad. XD [Rick's House Layout](https://i.postimg.cc/XJYPD6Vt/Rick-s-House-Layout-1000.png)


	4. Trial by Rick

The next day, the second day of their trial period, Rick presented Morty with a set of clothes made specifically for him. They were classic Morty clothes: a yellow T-shirt and bluejeans, but smaller in size so that they would fit the boy perfectly. The material was super stretchy, thin, and soft, and it barely felt like he was holding anything in his hands, the clothes were so light. There were also two small slits in the back of the shirt, and Rick explained that when Morty put it on, his wings would fit right through those. The material would stretch as wide as needed, then shrink back down again. It also would not pinch the base of his wings, so there was no worry that his blood-flow would be cut off. Rick also added in a small pair of white boxer-briefs.

No effort was put into socks or shoes since Morty didn't wear them anyway. His slightly elongated toes and barely hooked nails would have been useless if he wore them, and he needed his feet bare in order to grip onto whatever he perched upon.

Morty hugged his new clothes and wept over them. It was the kindest gift he'd received in a long, long time. Not even the clothes he wore back when he still lived with his Rick and family were so nice.

Rick awkwardly tried to comfort him, but it was difficult since the boy didn't seem to like being touched. But Morty reassured him that he was so very happy, and he wiped his eyes and bounded away to try on his new attire.

Currently, they sat on the couch in the living room, watching some interdimensional cable, Morty in his brand new outfit and feeling happy as a lark.

TV, new clothes, great food, flying... Morty had to wonder if that was what heaven was like.

Rick peered down at the little winged Morty that sat on the opposite side of the couch, staring at the crazy shows and commercials on TV with wonder. Apparently, his Rick had never updated their cable box with crystallized xanthanite (at least he hadn't before his untimely death) so that was the first time Morty was watching it. Rick smiled at him, taken by his childish wonder and the excited way he laughed and pointed at the screen, looking at Rick for validation of what he just saw.

The kid was just a kid after all. The same age as all the other Mortys, give or take a few months, depending on how ahead or delayed time was in his original dimension.

W-005. A very distant dimension, and a very low number. Agent Rick did say there were very few W-dimensions that had a Rick entity present. He wondered what other kinds of winged Mortys could be out there. He looked over at the kid sitting near him on the couch. They probably weren't as cute as that one, that was for certain.

Rick tried—he tried very hard—to keep his mind out of the gutter in regards to Morty. He was so small, so innocent, such a lonely and abused little thing. Thinking of him in a sexual sense seemed grossly inappropriate. But his mind continuously reminded himself that the boy had been in a relationship with his original Rick. So the kid had definitely been stripped of his innocence a while ago. Even still, Rick felt bad for raking his eyes over Morty's lean frame, small and perfectly proportioned. He could even see his scrawny little neck, whereas most Mortys were a bit chubby with baby fat around their heads and hunched shoulders that mostly hid their necks, but Morty's shoulders were small and frail-looking, along with the rest of his body. It apparently made him more aerodynamic.

Hollow bones, Rick also had to remind himself. That probably made him super light, though how much the kid weighed was still a mystery. It probably wasn't much since he could hop around and fly from a squatting position. If he weighed a lot, he'd probably need a running start or to jump off of something high.

Rick subtly shook his head and tried to stare at the TV again. He was letting his mind wander too far into random thoughts and needed to reel himself back in. Even still, he could only concentrate on the screen for another few minutes before his eyes were inexorably pulled back over to the little Morty beside him.

He stared at the boy's wings and slid his icy eyes over the plumage, taking in details and contemplating aerodynamics, wing shape and size, feather density, etcetera. A few patches of feathers were scraggly and unkempt, he noticed, and he fought the urge to reach over and smooth them down. Morty's feathery hair was also a little fluffed and askew, like he had bed-head or something. Come to think of it, the kid's feathers and hair had been rather unkempt since he met him yesterday, and the shower last night hadn't helped much, either. He had to wonder if that was a normal look for the boy or whether he actually needed to straighten himself up.

A little tremor shimmied down one wing, subtle, but Rick caught sight of it. Then, a moment later, they both rustled a little, like they were being shaken, then settled back down. The plumage kept fluffing up then down, and more little twitches shook them occasionally.

"Uh...h-hey, Morty. You okay?"

Morty looked over at him, thin eyebrows raised at the sudden question. "Huh?"

Rick pointed toward his unkempt wings. "You're looking a little twitchy there, bud. Something wrong?"

A flush bloomed over Morty's face that extended down his throat and up over his ears. "Oh uh...n-no, I-I'm fine..." he stuttered, turning pointedly back to the TV.

"Uh, yeah, not buying that one, bro," Rick grumbled, rolling his eyes. He knew embarrassment when he saw it, but he wasn't letting Morty ignore his question because of it.

The diminutive teen sighed and hung his head, shoulders sagging and wings drooping. He looked defeated. He never could pull the wool over a Rick's eyes, much as he wanted to in order to preserve a little bit of dignity. "I-It's just...um...I think I need to preen them." He swallowed nervously and made a point not to look at Rick when he shyly admitted, "I pr-probably have s-some...some m-mites or something..." He had to swallow again after that, his little heart hammering against his hollow breastbone. "I-I-uh h-haven't bothered with pr-preening them much since...m-my Rick..." Pulling his legs up onto the couch, Morty hugged them and hid his face behind his knees. "My Rick used to p-preen them for me..." he managed to mumble out.

"Oh..." Rick hummed, a little awkwardly. He turned back to the TV again. A little tingle of guilt mixed with jealousy found a nice home in his gut, and he realized he didn't care much to have Morty's original Rick brought up in conversation. But, he had to remind himself, that guy was Morty's first in practically everything, so who was he to try to weasel in the way of that. Besides, Morty wasn't even his Morty...at least not yet.

"So you...you have bugs?" he asked, pushing past the unease of the conversation.

Absolutely mortified, Morty curled his arms tighter around his knees and sides of his face and wrapped his wings up around his head, hiding himself from sight. All Rick could see was a cocoon of brown feathers sitting on his couch.

"Oh, hey, uh...no, no, don't do that... Um... H-Here, maybe I can pick through them for you?" he offered kindly, reaching for Morty's wings in urgent need to make him feel better. If his old Rick used to preen him, then maybe it was okay for his new Rick to do it too.

How quickly he forgot the kid didn't like being touched.

"No!" Morty yelped, instantly flinching away when he felt the cushions moving and Rick sliding closer. He unfurled and hopped over the side of the sofa, ducking down and hiding there.

Withdrawing immediately, Rick sat alone on the couch, scratching at the back of his neck with nerves. "Ah right...s-sorry. Um...yoooou...need a bath?... Orrr...?"

Morty's small voice floated up over the arm of the couch, defeat in his tone. "I-I'll just go and p-preen them..." Quickly, he stood and scurried away, darting through the kitchen and exiting the house through the sliding patio doors. He sat out there on the concrete slab, the sunlight warm on his skin, but feeling humiliated and dejected, his whole frame sagging. He had been having such a wonderful time that he completely forgot about his hygiene needs. Though, if he was being honest with himself, he had forgotten about those a long time ago. It was just...he hated that it had to interrupt the good time he was having with that nice Rick. He had ignored the irritated twitches of his wings, but apparently, Rick had noticed.

Sighing, Morty drew his right wing around his body and proceeded to rifle through the feathers for those annoying tiny mites. He tried not to think about what to say to Rick the next time he faced him.

A compulsive feeling drove Rick to turn off the TV and follow Morty. The poor kid looked so stricken with embarrassment, he felt the need to attempt to make up for it. How, was still the question of the hour, but Rick was pretty good with winging shit. He smirked at that quip. It was so pertinent to his little Morty.

Stopping in the open doorway to the back patio, Rick crossed his arms and leaned against the frame, watching Morty with interest.

Oblivious, the boy sat with his back to the house, small and insignificant in the middle of that large, sun-heated concrete slab, picking through the Morty-hair-brown feathers on his wing. His movements were slow and uninspired, more mechanical than anything, and it even seemed, to Rick, that he wasn't hardly paying attention to what he was doing. Even so, Rick's eyes followed the boy's hand motions and picked up with relative ease on what he was doing.

"That how you do it then?" he asked after a few minutes of watching.

Startled, Morty turned his upper body and looked over his shoulder, round eyes wide and heart beating wildly. He hadn't realized Rick was there, watching him, too distracted with his embarrassment and sadness. He had been ruminating over his original, who used to preen his wings so thoroughly and lovingly.

"Uh!" he uttered, shaken and on edge. He noticed Rick's crossed arms uncurl a bit, and he tipped a hand by the wrist, pointing at Morty. The boy followed the indication and realized the older man was referring to how he was picking through his feathers. He stared at the spot he had just been preening, the plumage rumpled and askew. "Y-Yeah..." he mumbled, all of the air deflating out of his lungs and body sagging back to the position he held a minute ago. His fingers resumed their work on his feathers, moving slowly and with little interest.

"Doesn't seem too hard," Rick went on.

Morty wasn't looking, but he swore he heard the shrug in the scientist's voice.

"N-No..."

There was a markedly awkward silence, punctuated by a lazy warm breeze that rustled the trees surrounding the property.

"You really miss him, huh?" Rick asked. It was more a statement than anything, because it was rather obvious. It was just that he wanted Morty to admit to it and maybe then they could move forward with...something. The boy seemed greatly hung up over his original Rick.

' _Well..._ ' Rick sighed in his own mind, ' _who can blame the kid? His Rick ruined him for anyone else but another Rick after all. Once a Morty has had a Rick, their little hearts are almost always set. Damn shame, poor kid._ ' That he was also a Rick and did or did not have a shot at getting intimately close with the boy needed to be set aside for the time being, though. There were more important things that needed tending to...not that he wouldn't **mind** getting wrapped up in Morty's frail arms and getting to know him... **thoroughly**...

Rick very quietly cleared his throat.

Morty sagged even more with Rick's spoken words and finally responded when he heard the old man clear his throat, taking it as a blatant indication he wanted the boy to say something. "Yeah."

Nodding, Rick already knew that. "I get it. No one can replace your original. Shit, kid, I wouldn't want to. Seems like your Rick was larger than life to you, huh?"

Morty stared at his wing silently, tears in his eyes. He stopped preening.

"Nothin' wrong with that," Rick went on soothingly. He quieted for a minute, staring at the boy slumping so dejectedly on the sun-bleached concrete. "Just want you to know, Morty... I'm not trying to be like him or replace him or make you forget about him or anything like that. I'm not him, and I don't want you to compare me with him either... Err...as much as you can since we're both Ricks and all..." He cleared his throat awkwardly. "I just..." He sighed. "Look, I'm not good at this shit. Frankly, you're here because I'm the kind of Rick that will actually give a damn about you instead of abuse the fuck outta you. So listen...if you need help or anything...just...just say so, okay? I-I-I'm not gonna hurt you or anything."

Morty remained silent, staring at his wings distantly and idly running a finger over several of his primary flight feathers.

Rick sighed again and stared off into the distant trees. "Look, Morty, I'm not trying to be like your first Rick or like your daddy or grandpa or any kind of parental figure for that matter. I just...I don't know what I'm trying to do here. Fuck. I figured I needed a Morty...a-and they told me you needed a Rick...and—and then...boom you're here, and... Shit. I don't fucking know. Wh-Whatever, I-I got shit to do," he grumbled, stuffing his hands into his pants pockets and turning to finally leave.

"Rick?"

Rick halted and hesitated, but looked back over his shoulder slowly.

Morty was staring at him with big glossy eyes, holding his right wing in his hands. "L-Like this, Rick..." He picked through his feathers slowly for a minute until he found a teeny mite, then pulled it off and threw it out into the yard. He looked back at the old man expectantly.

Rick hummed and turned all the way around, crossing his arms. "Like that, huh?"

Morty nodded, staring at him with a look Rick could not identify. Passively innocent, maybe? Slightly hopeful?

Rick waited for a short while before finally approaching and sitting down next to the winged kid on the warm concrete. He made no other moves—only gave the boy a carefully neutral, very slightly expectant expression.

Morty watched him with a mix of caution and hope, studying the lines of the scientist's older face and the impartial expression across his unibrow. Finally, he extended his left wing slowly toward Rick and pointed to a ruffled section of short, fluffy covert feathers up along the leading edge. "It itches..." he mumbled quietly.

Rick pointed at the area.

Morty nodded.

Very carefully, Rick reached up and pushed his fingertips through the fluffy feathers, feeling how incredibly soft they were. His eyes widened when he realized he was touching Morty's wing for the very first time, and he soaked up everything he could observe like a thirsty sponge. The vane of the longer feathers was sleek and silky, and the semiplume feathers he was weeding through were so very soft and fluffy.

Carefully, he weeded through the thick plumage, narrowing his eyes in search. Finally, he noticed a very tiny black dot that he realized was a mite. It crawled around on the very pale skin under the plumage of Morty's wing, and Rick wasted no time, seizing it between his fingernails and plucking it off. He showed it to Morty with a smug smirk before flicking it out into the grass like the boy had.

Morty smiled and nodded, more than a little relief on his slender face. "Wh-Where there's one, th-there's usually more," he informed quietly, watching Rick to see what he would do.

Rick's smug expression fell, and he glared back at the ruffled feathers where he'd been searching. Pushing through them some more, he noticed more tiny dots crawling around amongst the plumage and on the skin. The old scientist carefully picked them out over a span of about five minutes until he couldn't find any more, even after expanding his search.

Leaning away, he blinked, trying to adjust his eyes from staring so closely for so long. Perhaps, if that became a thing, he should put on a pair of magnifying goggles or something to make the job easier. He noticed Morty keeping himself busy picking his other wing, but the boy stopped and looked over when Rick's preening ended. The old super scientist felt a little proud of himself that the timid boy trusted him enough to look away from what he was doing with his precious wing.

Morty peered at the feathers that were now cleaned, but ruffled up. He reached over and pushed some of them around, realigning and smoothing them back down. "Like this..."

Rick watched and learned quickly, eyes following along Morty's motions. When the boy drew away, the older man reached in, finishing smoothing down the feathers just like Morty showed him.

Emboldened, Rick looked for more mites elsewhere on the boy's wing, finding a messy patch of feathers and picking through carefully. He noted the different sizes and shapes of feathers on different areas of the wing as well as the texture—soft or sleek, fluffy or like satin.

It took a lot of restraint to keep from petting the kid, unable to keep himself from likening him to a baby bird he had caught one time as a small child. He had pet the frail, shaking thing with a tender fingertip, and loved the feeling of its tiny heart flitting against his palm. It was then that he found he had a soft spot for small, weak animals, but ultimately restrained himself from bothering too much with them. They were cute and shit, but he had science to do. Now, though, it seemed he had finally found a small, frail little animal that he could actually care for. A baby bird that had fallen from its nest and needed help to nurture it back to health and given a new place to roost. It was just his luck that the baby bird also happened to be a Morty. A smaller than most, slender, beautiful Morty with big, round eyes, pale skin, and soft-looking lips. That little Morty package was everything he found adorable and appealing all in one.

Usually, Rick found Mortys that he'd seen around the Citadel to be mostly cute and desirable in the sense that he wanted one for himself. Like seeing a friend's pet hamster and wanting one too, only a lot more complicated. He didn't consider Mortys to be animals or anything; they were human beings...a person he desperately wanted to get to know and have one to himself, like all the other Ricks had. Only occasionally, he did see a rare kind of Morty that was different from the rest. Either spliced with an animal or alien species, usually something done to them by their Ricks, or one just dressed differently than the norm. He'd seen a small handful of Mortys that he would consider attractive, and even though he thought it odd that he felt that way, he did not deny that he felt that way. So it was not surprising to him at all to be viewing that little winged Morty he was currently preening as sexually attractive as well as unbelievably adorable. He just needed to make sure to keep those feelings in check for the time being. It might prove bad form to try to come on to the kid during his trial stay before even adopting him. Even if he did adopt him permanently, he wasn't sure if he could even pursue something then either. Everything seemed so up in the air...so to speak.

Blinking himself out of those thoughts, Rick realized he'd found some more mites, and he picked them out of Morty's plumage carefully. "Y-You should really take better care of these," he admonished softly, finally concentrating more on what he was doing.

Morty's shoulders sagged again, along with his wings. Rick had to shift a bit and gently maneuver his hands back into the feathers he had been picking through.

"I know," the boy answered quietly, dejection making his voice low and sad.

"Why haven't you? Other than your original used to do it. But I'm sure you took care of your wings before he came along, right?" Rick went on, wanting to talk to the kid now for some reason. Oh, who was he trying to kid? He liked hearing Morty's sweet voice.

"Yeah...but when he started to do it for me...I liked it better. And I liked preening his too," Morty said, a bit more life coming back into his eyes and mannerisms. "They were so messy when he first came to our house. He—He never took care of them much himself. Said he didn't have time, science was more important. But I-I loved his wings anyway, and I started preening them for him while he worked... Th-They were so...beautiful..." his voice faded, sounding sad again.

Rick looked up from where he'd been working through the longer secondary feathers of Morty's wing. They were big and thick, but sleek and silky. They were nothing like Birdperson's plumage, where it was often oily and a little coarse. Knowing he might be making things worse, he still asked, "What did they look like?"

"Th-They were huge...w-with wide feathers...silver-grey l-like Rick hair, but more grey, and long dark grey f-flight feathers. And so soft...when they were cl-clean anyway. H-He could...wrap me up in them...and—and it w-was so...so warm...an-and..." He was crying now. Big fat tears pooled at the edges of his eyes and trickled down his slim cheeks to drip off of his little rounded chin.

Rick sighed and withdrew. He hadn't meant to upset the kid, but was fully prepared for it to happen anyway. Daring to be so bold, but hoping Morty wouldn't mind since he had already been touching at his wings, Rick reached up and gently patted the boy on the head with tender little touches of his fingers, then stroked over the feathered hair. Holy fuck, it was the softest stuff he had ever felt! Like touching a cloud made of the softest fluffed cotton...cotton candy...Egyptian cotton...down! Fuck, it was just pure feathered down! He was relieved when Morty did nothing to shake him off. Rick wanted to keep touching that downy hair for as long as possible.

"Af-After everyone was gone, I-I didn't care anymore. I-I didn't care about anything anymore," Morty went on, like something had finally given way inside his chest and the words had no barrier or filter to check them before leaving his lips. "The R-Ricks found me and took me to the Citadel, p-put me in the Morty Daycare. Everyone looked at me weird. I-I was the only Morty with wings. There were dif-different Mortys that looked different too, but they singled me out, p-picked on me. Said my wings looked like big turds on my back. A group of the meaner ones would chase me and beat me up when no one was looking. Storage Rick had to put me in a room by myself so no one would break my bones again. I-I'm too fragile to hang around n-normal people. They're too strong and they grab and hit too hard and m-my bones just snap!" He cried a little harder, curling his face into his knees and hiding his head under his wings.

Rick withdrew his hand now that he was being blocked, and leaned his elbows against his knees sighing again and looking distraught. The conversation quickly went from "what did your Rick's wings look like" to "everything sucked after he was dead". He wasn't sure what to say.

Rick stared at Morty's hunched form that shook with his pitiful cries. Icy grey eyes slid over the ruffled feathers, and he reached in and began picking through them again, gently, quietly.

As he preened, Morty slowly calmed, until a few minutes later, he was no longer crying, just sitting silently as he took in the feeling of Rick's tender fingers working through his plumage.

Rick hummed softly for a second, like a warning sign that he was about to speak so his voice didn't startle Morty. "Well...I may be a Rick, but I'm not a regular, gruff, asshole Rick...and I'm definitely not a piece of shit bully Morty... So...um...well, if—if you're fine with that, then you won't have to go back to the daycare...and you won't have to risk being taken by some other Rick that'll treat you like shit. You can stay here...with me." After that, Rick quieted and continued preening and smoothing Morty's feathers, paying undue attention to the task.

Slowly, Morty lowered his wings from his head and peeked out over the one Rick was working on. "Wh-Why do you want a Morty?" he asked, softly, quietly, full of so much innocence it was painful.

Rick stayed silent for a while. At first, he wasn't sure how to respond. He knew what to say to the agent Rick who interviewed him at the Morty-doption Agency, but to Morty himself... Finally, he just sighed and said, "Because I figured 'what the hell'. Most Ricks in the Central Finite Curve have one. And they have one for a reason—multiple reasons, in fact. So I thought, why not me too?"

"But where's your original Morty?"

He knew it had to come up sooner or later. He knew it was only an innocent question. Mortys didn't know much about the things Ricks knew, about alternate dimensions, the Central Curve, the differences between one reality to the next. Some Mortys were more in the loop than others, depending on how much their Ricks told them, but Rick had a feeling that particular Morty was as far removed from that loop as one could get.

Still, the answer was no less hard to admit.

Rick stayed silent for even longer as he worked on Morty's wing, so long that the boy began to wonder if the old man was even going to answer his question. ' _Maybe something happened to his original Morty?_ ' Morty thought sadly. ' _Just like with my Rick..._ ' The thought just made him sad again, and he started to dip his head back under his wings. Rick's low voice halted him, though, before he could hide again.

"I never had one."

Morty's round blue eyes widened over his wing, and his breath caught in his lungs.

Rick went on, staring at the work he was putting into preening Morty's infested wing, but giving enough attention to what he was saying to be able to tell the story succinctly. "My Beth and Jerry never stayed together. My Beth aborted her first baby, which would have been your sister, Summer, in this dimension. Then they split up. Beth is a renowned surgeon in my dimension, and who the fuck knows or cares what Jerry's doing. He could be dead, and I'd say 'good riddance, fucker'. He's the one who convinced my Beth to abort my first grandkid. And if I ever **do** see him, I'm gonna perform a very late term abortion on **him**." Rick scowled while he preened through Morty's feathers, trying to not be aggressive with his movements even though he was irritated by the things he was dredging up again.

"Anyway...without them being together, and without them letting Summer be born, then, obviously...there wouldn't be a Morty born to them either... So...I got no Smith family for me to hang out in their garage...no grandkids..." He paused for a long moment, his grey eyes glossing over and losing focus on what his hands were doing in Morty's feathers. "...No...no Morty......and...I-I never will..."

A small hand reached through the long flight feathers and cupped around the back of Rick's weathered right hand. He stopped picking and stared at it, mouth dropping open just a crack. It felt like a feather was brushing against his skin, the touch was so light. Everything about Morty was so delicate and frail—bird-like—even his skin-to-skin touches. It sent a little shiver down Rick's spine.

"I'm sorry."

Rick looked up to Morty, eyes widening a little. The little boy was looking at him, unmistakable understanding in his big, round eyes. That "adult"-ish look seemed to belie the teenager's age, and it was a bit strange seeing that on such a soft, young face. He hadn't considered that the small Morty could look so grown-up with just one simple expression.

A moment went by, and Rick turned his attention back to stare at their touching hands again. He lifted his other hand and cupped it over top of Morty's, sandwiching it between his large warm hands as gently as possible. "Yeah...me too..."

Morty bit his lip to keep a smile from forming. That Rick was so different from every other one he'd met, even his original. His original Rick was loving and gentle, but he had an asshole-ish rough streak a mile long. That new Rick was only tender and kind and compassionate...empathetic. He was even nicer than Storage Rick. Of course, he only just met that Rick, but if the future stemmed from the present, then odds were, Morty would be in very good hands with that old man.

"Hey..." Rick said softly.

Morty looked into his eyes, just then noticing the flecks of blue that subtly twinkled in the grey depths. They looked like ice crystals drifting through pale storm clouds, and the boy was completely taken by them.

Rick smiled and dared to reach a thumb up to gently stroke it along Morty's cheek. The boy did nothing to stop him, and oh, damn, it was so fucking soft too... "You don't have a Rick...and I don't have a Morty... I dunno...seems like we were destined to hook up, huh?" He smirked and winked.

Morty blushed and withdrew, hiding his face in his wings again. A moment later, though, he popped back up and nodded in agreement, failing to keep his smile a secret.

Rick grinned at him and cheerily went back to work preening Morty's feathers. The teen giggled at the happy-go-lucky expression on Rick's face, a particularly odd sight for a Rick, and a moment later resumed his own work on his other wing.

They spent a while outside, getting Morty's wings de-mited and smoothed down. It was starting to take too long, and it seemed like they were barely making any headway, so Rick finally got up, groaning and cracking old joints.

"When was the last time you had a bath, kid? Can you bath with those?" he asked, pointing at the boy's wings.

Morty nodded, feeling a lot more at ease around the old scientist. His answer came much more freely than before. "It's been a really long time. Th-The showers at the daycare are small, a-and I don't have enough room to wash my wings properly. When I started getting mites, I couldn't get them all washed out, s-so I stopped caring..." He looked off to the side, a little sadness working into his demeanor again.

Rick hummed in thought for a moment. "Hang on, Morty. I-I'll be right back," he said, turning and entering the house.

It took twenty minutes.

Morty was just starting to get a slight chill from sitting outside while the sun was on its last half hour of lighting the sky, now dipping far past the horizon. The air was cooling, and the beginnings of evening dew were gathering in the trimmed grasses across the lawn.

"Hey, kid...f-follow me." Rick thumbed over his shoulder, then turned and walked back into the house, expecting Morty to do as asked.

The boy did so, getting up and trotting inside the warm, dry home and closing the patio door. He followed Rick through the kitchen and into the lab, then over to the large door along the left-hand wall. The scientist pressed a short code into an access panel beside the door, and it slid open from the ceiling down into the floor, revealing a large, freight-sized elevator.

"I'll take you down in style today, kid. But mostly, I just use the stairs," Rick said to him as they stepped inside the huge room, giving him a playful wink. "I use this bad boy for transporting large items between ground level and the different floors of the sub-lab."

"Wh-Why have stairs at all, Rick?" Morty asked, craning his neck to look up at him from his short stature.

"Gotta have a way to get out if for some reason the lab loses power, Morty. Besides, stair-climbing is good exercise. Wouldn't wanna get flabby in my old age," Rick joked, lifting his teal shirt enough to show his belly and pinching at his slender waist.

Morty couldn't suppress the giggle or the faint blush at seeing that exposed skin. He looked away, biting his lip and hoping Rick would think he was only reacting to the joke.

Indeed oblivious, Rick pressed a button on the elevator panel, and the large door slid shut before the room hummed softly. The pair hardly even felt the elevator's descent before the large door slid open once again, that time rising up into the ceiling. Beyond was a vast, expansive room, only partially lit by recessed ceiling lights. Most of the rest of the lights were off, bathing the room in a sort of mysterious ambiance, many of the objects and things sitting around casting ominous shadows.

"Don't t-touch anything down here, Morty. Shit's not safe," Rick instructed with a serious tone. "This way."

He led the boy across the massive room, keeping an eye on him in his peripheral. The kid was following closely, eyes darting this way and that, taking in the strange shadows of mechanical devices and machines littering the area. He seemed nervous, sweat starting to gather on his brow, but he continued to follow diligently, and Rick had to smirk at that.

Their pathway was clear and straight through the room, and Morty was grateful for that, but he couldn't help feeling concerned with why Rick wanted to bring him down there. Was he going to be experimented on? He'd heard horror stories from eavesdropping on other Mortys' conversations while at the daycare. But...he looked up at the scientist who walked barely a pace ahead. That Rick couldn't be like the ones he'd heard such awful stories about. That Rick was kind and considerate. Morty wanted to trust him. He believed he should. But that didn't make him any less nervous when they stepped up to a closed sliding door along the far wall.

Rick inputted a short, three digit code into the keypad beside the metal door, and it slid open obediently with a short beep and a quiet hiss of compressed air. The old man stood aside and motioned for Morty to enter first, smiling warmly at him.

The boy gulped and took a peek inside the room cautiously. He wasn't sure what he was expecting to see in there. Those stories he heard the other Mortys telling had him picturing crazy, awful contraptions in there—things like a surgical table or an evilly elaborate dentist's chair with ghastly implements hooked to it. Instead, he saw something that made him frown a bit in confusion. But, as soon as he realized what he was looking at, his round eyes widened dramatically.

The room was big, the length and width of the space probably at least thirty feet square, probably more. Just off-center was a big in-floor pool, wider than Morty's full wingspan. The circular pool was lit all the way around the outside perimeter by square inset lights that were slightly arched to follow the curve of the pool. They gave off a cool blue glow, and from his angle at the door, it appeared to be that there were more lights softly illuminating the crystal clear water from below.

Morty dared to enter the room, stepping timidly past Rick who nodded and waved for him to go on. He peered a little closer, eyes still wide and soaking in as many details as he could. It looked like the pool had a bench seat lining the entire inner perimeter of it, so one could sit in the water and lean against the edge to relax. Under the water on the left side had two circular in-floor lights, the center of the pool had three straight across, and the other side had another two lights, all giving the water an etherial blue glow that shimmered off the smooth walls and ceiling of the room.

Other details were revealed as Morty moved closer to the pool. There seemed to be four separate covered access panels for controls spaced evenly around the pool on the floor, leaving them easily accessible no matter where one happened to be in the water. What they controlled, he had no clue, but he did notice that above, there was a huge system of shower heads that were suspended over the entirety of the twenty-five foot pool. That confused him, but he didn't dwell long on it. Instead, he looked around some more.

All kinds of soaps and hygiene supplies were sitting on a low shelf within reaching distance of the water on the center left side of the room. Flanking it were rounded benches attached to the wall that wrapped each corner. Above each corner bench was another large shower head, and there was an access panel on the wall for both corners. They appeared to be shower stalls, but with no walls or curtains. There was a drain in the center of each, and, Morty noticed, the other two corners of the room also had drains, so no water could pool on the floor and stagnate.

"Will this do?" Rick's voice asked, echoing slightly in the large smooth room.

Morty turned and gaped up at the old man.

"I-It was the best I could do in about 20 minutes. I could improve it if you've got any specific needs or something," Rick went on, propping his hands to his hips and observing his incredibly fast but thorough handiwork.

"Y-You **made** this?? For **me**??" Morty squeaked, flabbergasted.

Rick turned a smile down to him. "Sure, kid. You need a decent place to bathe, and my little bathroom upstairs isn't gonna cut it." He waved around the room, swinging his arm grandiosely. "Have at it, Morty. Here, l-let me show you how to operate the controls, though."

He stepped over to one of the four panels on the floor around the pool and tapped once on it. The metal plate slid out of the way and Rick pointed out the controls and what did what. He instructed Morty on how to control the temperature of the water and showed him there were even water jets that could turn the entire pool-like tub into a jacuzzi. And, when the shower heads were turned on, the pressure could be adjusted from a light rain to a heavy pummel.

"The tub has a filter that's always operational," Rick explained, swirling his finger in a circular motion toward the water, "so whatever dirt and bugs you shed into it will be filtered out pretty quickly. You could get in filthy and wash, then be able to soak for as long as you wanted afterward 'cause the water will still be clean."

Morty couldn't believe it. Rick had built him such a fantastical bathroom in such a short time, but with so much thought and care put into it, that it melted Morty's heart. It didn't help that his heart had already been warmed over by that new Rick, but that was beside the point. First he had been able to fly, then had a delicious meal—prepared by the old man himself, then slept in Rick's own bed. He still couldn't forget the smells he had drifted off to, inhaling them deeply out of the old scientist's pillow and blankets: motor oil, burning electronics, and a cedar wood scent that Morty found intoxicating as well as comforting. It wasn't like his original Rick's scent, but it was still just as wonderful.

And then Rick had given him new clothes the next morning, and they spent much of the day watching the most awesome and crazy TV shows he'd ever seen. It had been a little rough when he was embarrassed over his mite-infested wings, but things smoothed over, and he was really enjoying being with that new Rick. And now, another amazing gift, an entire bathroom and fancy pool-sized tub, just for him! Could things get any better?!

"Wow, Rick... This is so amazing! Th-Thank you!" he enthused, staring up at Rick with stars in his big blue eyes, little hands fisted and shaking with excitement.

Rick smiled down at him. He lifted a hand and tentatively reached for Morty's downy feathered hair, elated when the boy closed his eyes happily and allowed him to pet it. He stroked his long, bony fingers over the fluff, his heart picking up in pace with the thrill of finally being able to touch the boy. He had not known before then how touch-starved he had truly been. Years of solitude did not bode well for human beings, even those who were anti-social, as Rick was. And Rick was also human, much as he considered himself god-like in intellect and resourcefulness. And now, with a Morty at his side... **that** Morty...that beautiful, delicate, angelic Morty...fuck, if Rick felt like he was not only a god, but that he could also be unstoppable.

"Sure, kid," he said softly, drawing his fingers back through the downy hair and curling them behind the boy's small ear, brushing the shell of it lightly as he drew his hand away. "Now hop in and get all cleaned up. Here, I whipped up some insecticide soap that'll wipe out any bugs we missed. It's safe, don't worry. Just scrub it all through your feathers and wash it out real good. Those little shits will come right out." He bent and picked up a large bottle of a syrupy white fluid from the shelf of hygiene products, handing it over to Morty.

"Y-You made this too?" the boy asked, holding it up to look more closely at it.

"Yeah, I had a couple minutes to spare after I was done with the room. Figured you'd feel a lot better if you could actually get rid of all of those annoying bastards at once instead of picking them out one by one. Which reminds me," Rick hummed, propping his hands to his slender hips just to put them somewhere and keep them off of Morty, "you slept in my bed last night. I'll need to get it de-mited too."

Morty slouched, feeling shameful, and shrugged into himself. "S-Sorry..."

"Eh no biggie." Rick shrugged and gave a non-committal wave. "It'll just take a minute. Now go on, clean up. I'll give the house a sanitization and then whip up some dinner. Take as long as you need to, though. No rush, kid. I'll get you another couple outfits made too. You should have more than just one."

He turned and left without another word, and Morty was left alone in his own private, amazing bathroom. The teenager couldn't help but grin and disrobed quickly.

Taking only a few minutes, Rick easily removed any insects in the house in his own high-tech way—mainly involving pinpoint lasers that were perfectly accurate and burned up the bugs completely, leaving no mess. That done, he moved to the kitchen and programmed a tasty meal he thought Morty might like into his food synthesizer.

As it was preparing their food, he wandered into his lab and sat on his stool, swiveling it around and rolling over to a computer and monitor setup in one corner of the workstation. With a few taps to the keyboard, the screen lit up and displayed the live camera feed from the bathroom he made for Morty downstairs in his sub-lab. He tried to convince himself it was out of pure concern that he was checking up on Morty, just to make sure the little guy wasn't down there drowning or something, but he knew better than to believe that was the only reason for peeping on him. It wasn't out of filthy perversion or a dark, twisted lust that he was watching the boy bathe, but rather curiosity and intrigue.

It was those wings. Those beautiful wings that he couldn't get over. He wanted to watch them move, see how they maneuvered for any given motion. He wanted to study them, see their full range of motion, see how the feathers flexed or puffed. They fascinated him—captured his attention in a way he hadn't felt in years—those wings, and in tandem, that Morty. That beautiful, small, timid little Morty with his slender face and lean body.

Rick groaned to himself and wiped a hand over his face vigorously, trying to swipe away those thoughts that were dipping dangerously close to sexual. Not now. It wasn't appropriate, he kept reminding himself...despite the fact that he was secretly watching the boy in all his nude glory washing himself in a huge bathtub.

Instead, he gazed back to the screen and watched in amazement at Morty bathing, scrubbing his small hands through his feathers and lathering them up with the foamy insecticide soap Rick had given him. The white bubbles clung to the ruffled plumage, working quickly to kill any bugs down to the microbial level.

When Rick wanted something done, he was thorough.

After Morty seemed satisfied that he'd scrubbed enough, he lowered his body down into the water and washed his wings out in the same manner as a bird, fanning the feathers out and splashing through the water vigorously.

Rick watched, fascinated, hooking a forefinger beneath his lower lip and rubbing it back and forth in intrigue. His eyes glued to the monitor, he watched the little Morty extend his wings out wide then pull them back, nearly folding them into their normal resting posture, only to splay the feathers wide and beat them down into the water, splashing it everywhere. After doing that a few times, he'd thrash his wings to shake the water out, almost like clapping them against his slender back, before repeating the process over again. Rick even heard the boy's angelic giggle echoing off the smooth walls of the bathroom. It seemed he was having fun, playing in the water while also getting clean.

When his plumage was finally rinsed and the feathers were thoroughly soaked and separating from each other, Morty poured more of the insecticide soap into his hand and began to scrub it into the downy strands of feathers on his head. He worked it in for a while then dunked himself to rinse it out. He even threw his head backward out of the water, splashing it in an arch over his body, and reached up to stroke his fingers through the matted hair-like plumage to make sure all the soap was gone.

Rick chewed on his lower lip, an unbidden groan bubbling up in his throat. That Morty was so fucking adorable and simultaneously sensual, it was downright scandalous.

The water was clear again moments later, and Morty proceeded to wash his human parts, taking his sweet, sweet time. And oh, did Rick notice. He took a deep breath and sighed it out, closing his eyes and looking for the calm that eased into his body moments later. Able to focus again, he watched the screen, a genuine smile forming on his thin lips.

Morty seemed so happy down in that pool-sized tub, splashing and giggling and getting squeaky clean. Rick had to wonder how long it had been since the poor boy had experienced such a joyful, satisfying moment.

His vision raked over Morty's lean frame, unable to keep his eyes from wandering. He tried to resist, he really did. Really, really. But he couldn't tear his icy eyes away from that diminutive teenage body and those beautiful wings.

Damn, Morty was so cute and sleek. He was proportionally smaller than a "normal" Morty by what had to be a foot, thin, and wraith-like, but with just enough cushion of fat to leave him slender and healthy. Being able to see his little neck and thin collarbone as well as the subtle ridge of the teen's spine and shoulder blades was also doing wonders for Rick's libido.

The old scientist watched Morty wash his lithe body, spine arching and wings splaying wide in order to reach his back and rear end. Rick had to curl a finger into his shirt collar and tug it away from his neck to alleviate the heat building up in his chest and face—because holy shit, the kid was flexible as fuck. Such a perfect arch to his back, such a soft, small, but plump butt, those sleek thighs—

A shrill beep jolted Rick nearly out of his skin, and he flailed on the stool, just barely keeping himself from falling over backward off of it. He caught himself on the edge of the workbench and cursed, wiping the sweat off of his brow and quickly cutting the camera feed from the bathroom. Their food was done, apparently, and he stood on shaky legs to head back into the kitchen and check on it.

It was fine, though. It would probably take a while for his persistent boner to die down, so it was better that he stop watching anyway.

Shit, he still needed to make Morty some new clothes. Some partner he was turning out to be—perving on his little helper instead of getting shit done. He swore off peeping on the kid again, realizing he'd have more opportunities to check those wings out later...since that was the reason he wanted to watch the boy in the first place. Yes, the **only** reason.

Rick grunted, annoyed at his own self, and proceeded to whip up a couple sets of new clothes for Morty, including some pajamas, because why not?

Timidly, Morty peeked his damp head out from the bathroom and eyed the large expanse of the sub-lab. Almost immediately, he noticed a small metal table set up beside the door with a new set of clothes lying neatly folded on top of it. With a relieved sigh, he picked up the clothes and darted back into the room to dress.

The new outfit was a pair of cozy pajamas with long pants and a button-down long-sleeved top, both the same yellow as his iconic T-shirt. Morty smiled as he pulled them on, realizing that they were made of the same material as well. His wings fit right through the stretchy slits in the back of the shirt, and the fabric rested against his skin as soft and light as a whisper.

He felt so special, that Rick had gone out of his way to create clothes that fit him so well and were so comfortable. No, he was lucky. Lucky to have been given the chance at having a life again. Being cooped up at the Morty Daycare had been strenuous and stifling. He had been battling the aching sadness of losing his entire family along with the loneliness of losing his best friend...his lover...his **Rick**. Honestly, he didn't even want to continue living, but Storage Rick always made sure to treat him extra nice on those days where the darkness was becoming too much to bear. And Morty didn't have the heart or the guts to end his own self, so he just kept on trudging through his existence, day after day.

Now...now, everything seemed like it had been worth it—the loneliness, the heartache, bearing the brunt of the other Mortys' torments, all those trips to the ER because someone grabbed him too hard again. Because now, he was being given a second chance at having a home and a Rick by his side. It wasn't his original...but then again, that was no longer possible. But that new Rick, S-322, he was definitely turning out to be the kind of Rick Morty could become attached to. Kind and sweet, so different from the majority of Ricks, but that made him all the more special to Morty.

Two misfits—a small, winged Morty and a kind-hearted Rick that wasn't even from a J-dimension—they seemed made for each other.

Morty hugged his arms around himself, grinning like a fool, clutching at his new pajama shirt. He giggled and finally trotted out of the bathroom, his skin glowing and feathers damp and a little scraggly but so clean he could eat off of them. He hadn't felt so satisfied nor so happy in such a long time. Had he ever been that satisfied? Maybe...maybe not.

He found his way upstairs without much trouble, following the staircase up to the ground-level lab, and peeked into the kitchen after the heavy door slid quietly out of the way.

Rick was just leaning over the small kitchen table and placing plates of steaming food down for them both.

"Oh, hey, Morty," the old man piped, a smile blooming on his face when he heard the door open and turned to see the small boy peering at him from around the jamb. "Come—Come on, dinner's all ready to go."

Returning the warm smile, Morty emerged fully and made his way across the kitchen, eagerly looking at the plate on the table. "Wh-What is it, Rick? It smells really good."

Rick grinned and propped his hands to his waist. "It's chi—" he cut himself off mid smug announcement, and stared with sudden horror at the little Morty with wings peering at the plate with interest, "—ken... Oh...oh shit, Morty, I-I-I didn't think about that!"

"Huh?" the teen asked, turning a confused expression up at Rick.

The old scientist gulped and nervously tapped his pointer fingers together, eyes darting from the boy with wings to the plate of cooked bird on the table. "Um...w-well, I...I mean... I-I didn't mean to—to make a sick joke out of it, kid..."

Morty stared up at him, thin brows wrinkled in confusion. His little head tilted to the side, trying to work out what seemed to be bothering Rick so suddenly. Then, his round eyes widened, and he burst into laughter. "It-It's okay, Rick. Ha-ha-ha! I like chicken, don't worry."

Rick exhaled loudly and sagged, flooded with relief. "Shit, Morty, I 'bout flipped there. I-I didn't think about how you'd react to eating something that had wings. So you're cool with chicken, then?"

"Ha-ha! It's all good, dawg, really. No harm, no **fowl** , am I right?"

"PFFFTT!!" Rick spat, doubling over and propping his hands to his knees. He laughed heartily and shook his head like he couldn't believe what had just come out of that little teen's mouth. "Hah! That's a great one, kid!"

Morty giggled along with him, loving the big smile and the happy crows feet at the corners of the old man's eyes. He liked seeing that Rick smile and laugh, and he was thrilled to have been the one to make him so happy.

With a kind hand, Rick brushed his fingers back through the boy's damp feathery hair and patted him a few times. "I like your style, Morty. You got a good sense of humor in you. Always a plus, especially when times get tough. You need to be able to laugh at shit sometimes in order to get through it. I really think you and I are gonna get along just fine." He grinned down at the teen and lightly scruffed his downy hair, then pet it back into place. "Now, how about we dig in before it gets cold. I made chicken and gravy with steamed veggies and some creamy noodles. Shit's delicious, bro. Synthesized, but still one hundred percent real."

Morty bit his lip through a grin, trying to keep the drool from escaping his mouth. "You bet, Rick!"

They sat and ate the food eagerly, both thrilled by the other's company after being so lonely for so long.

The food was indeed delicious. Even though it was synthesized, it was still just as real as the real thing and just as tasty, and Morty ate like he was starving. He filled his belly in a short amount of time, much to Rick's amusement, then sighed when the meal was over and slouched in the chair. He patted his full stomach and hiccuped on a burp, blushing and shyly averting his face after the small bout of gas.

A loud belch rattled the table and Morty stared wide-eyed across it at a very satiated Rick, patting his own belly and licking his chops smugly.

They both burst into laughter again.

"Here you go, Morty, hop on in," Rick told the winged teen as he drew back the covers of his bed once again.

Humbly accepting, because he was fairly certain that Rick wouldn't take no for an answer at that point, Morty crawled onto the plush mattress and laid on his side.

Draping the blanket and sheet over the small boy, he drew them up over his wings and shoulders, tucking him in gently. He watched Morty snuggle under the covers, emitting a sigh so sweet, it sounded almost like a purr spilling out of his lips. Rick smiled at him and pet along his downy hair, watching the boy smile so much, it looked like his face was splitting.

Rick did that. Rick had put that angelic smile there.

He felt humble and smug at the same time.

"Night, Morty," he said softly, drawing his fingers through the kid's feathery hair and tenderly slipping them along the shell of his soft little ear as he pulled away.

A light blush tinged Morty's cheeks a slight pink, and he shyly drew the covers up and peeked over them. "G-Goodnight, Rick."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I was writing about the mites, I kept feeling itchy all over and kept scratching. XD
> 
> Also, as with the layout of Rick's house, I also did a layout of Morty's bathroom that Rick created. I decided to just add it in case anyone wanted to see what I was imagining. And again, I DO draw better than this! XD This was just for visual reference so I'd stay consistent with what the room looked like when describing things. And as before, enjoy the cute little Christmas penguin because I drew on a themed notepad. XD So, if you'd like to see the very crappy pencil sketch, please click the following link: [Morty's Bathroom Layout](https://i.postimg.cc/mD9Lk99b/Morty-s-Bath-1000.png)


	5. Trial and Error

The third and final day of the trial period had finally arrived, and today Rick and Morty were going to head out on one of the pre-listed adventures given to them by Agent Rick at the Morty-doption Agency. They picked a simple but useful one from the list: a supply run to get the special kind of crystals that were one of the most important ingredients in the creation of portal fluid.

Rick and Morty stood in the lab in front of the silver roll-up garage door, watching it ascend at a casual pace, revealing Rick's special mode of transportation parked on the concrete slab outside. It was nothing like the kind of space car that Morty's original Rick had—that flying saucer made out of junk he had found in the garage when he first moved into the Smith household. It mostly looked like just a car...an old one at that. The only thing that really stood out as being "spacey" about it were the nacelles that stuck off the back fenders on both sides of the vehicle. They even looked like they belonged there, their design matching the car's aesthetic.

"What'a'ya think, Morty?" Rick piped, hands to his hips and grinning at his car like it was his pride and joy. "Isn't she a beaut?"

Morty eyed up the vehicle a few more seconds before looking up at Rick beside him. "Um...y-yeah, Rick. It—It's really cool...yaknow...for—for a car."

Rick feigned a dramatic gasp. "'A car'? Just 'a car', Morty? Oh, no no no, my boy. This isn't merely a 'car', Morty. **This** is my old 1977 AMC Pacer, bay-bee!" he hooted, trotting over to the side of the vehicle and waving his arms excitedly toward it. "I had so many great times in this thing. So many ladies, so many drive-throughs, ahh..." he sighed, dropping his arms to his sides and staring toward the sky with his eyes closed in what looked like bliss. "Smoked so much weed in this thing, Morty. Good times." He snapped back out of it and grinned, waving toward the car again. "Plus, this baby already had a kind of spaceship vibe to the design, so I gave it some improvements and voila! This baby'll dance circles around any federation ship and can outpace the fastest space-mustangs out there. And! Lookie lookie!" He pulled on the flat, silver door handle and the car door opened, lifting upward on hinges attached to the middle of the roof instead of out to the side. "I converted it to gullwing doors, baby!"

Morty's eyes did light up at that. "Oh, cool, Rick! Just—Just like mine!" He spread one wing out and arched it, trying to imitate the car door.

"Fuck yeah, Morty! How about that, huh? Did this years ago, and now it's got a deeper meaning. Shit, bro, couldn't have planned it any better!"

Morty laughed and flexed his wings before folding them behind himself in their usual resting position. "So awesome, Rick!"

The old scientist grinned and motioned toward the converted space car. "What'a'ya say, Morty? Ready for an adventure?"

Elation bubbling in his belly, Morty nodded with barely contained enthusiasm and ran to the other side of the car, pulling the door to open and sliding under it and into the leathery passenger seat. It was a little difficult to maneuver his wings into a comfortable position and buckle his seatbelt, but he found an arrangement that worked well enough after pulling the door down to close it.

Rick was already seated with his door shut and inserted the key into the ignition on the steering column. He cranked the engine over, and it warmed up with a low to high sci-fi whine that tapered off into a gentle thrumming hum that was smooth as silk.

"Listen to that baby purr," he said, his own voice just as low and silky.

Morty giggled and bit his lip, the old man's voice doing strange—but not entirely unwelcome—things to his belly, making it feel tingly and warm. "It sounds great, Rick," he said, feeling his face warming up along with the space car.

Rick grinned at him, showing teeth, and grabbed the shifter on the steering column, adjusting it into gear. A light tap on the gas pedal, and the car lifted off the ground vertically, the engine's hum increasing only a little in volume.

Morty turned and peered out the open window, both hands on the door frame. He noticed a whirr as the wheels pulled up further into the frame of the car, and another slightly clanky sound when smooth panels slid into place over the wheel wells, transforming the vehicle into something a bit more streamlined and space-worthy.

"Might wanna crank up your window, Morty," Rick told him with amusement. "Air's gonna get real thin in a minute."

Shyly, the boy found the manual crank on the door and turned it, closing the window after about half a dozen turns. He briefly wondered why Rick would bother leaving something so mundane and inefficient as manually operated windows, but then attested it to it being Rick's favorite car that he might not have wanted to change too much. Then again, the man had converted the thing into a space car, so... Perhaps it had more to do with the old scientist preferring taking the stairs over the elevator in his lab?

"Oh, and don't worry, Morty. You can't open the windows while in space or in any atmosphere without breathable oxygen. Safety feature," Rick explained as though it might have been some burning concern that the boy may have had.

Morty merely smiled and nodded.

As they ascended into the sky then further out into space, Morty sat back in the cozy cream-colored leather seat and took a moment to bask in the excitement of finally going out into space with his grand—...with Rick...again. He forgot that Rick wasn't into the idea of being a grandfather to Morty, nor a parental figure for that matter. It had the boy wondering—what **did** Rick want to be to him? A friend? Well, they certainly were off on the right track for that. He was having a blast hanging out with Rick so far. The old man was wise and fun and funny, and Morty was absolutely interested in getting to know him even more.

Morty realized, a man like Rick S-322 was special. One of a kind, like himself, despite there being infinite iterations of them both throughout the multiverse. He wanted to talk with the old man, laugh with him more, watch more of that awesome interdimensional cable with him. The three day trial period was not enough, Morty thought, not nearly enough time to really settle in and enjoy the elder's company. And Morty wanted more time with Rick. He wanted a lot more time with Rick.

Sighing, the teen turned his attention away from those thoughts because right then, he **was** spending time with Rick. They were on a classic Rick and Morty adventure, even—their first ever adventure together. Now wasn't the time to be introspective, it was the time to enjoy the moment and have fun.

Morty eyed the interior of Rick's favorite car briefly, wanting to familiarize himself with something that was important to the old man. It made him feel closer to the super scientist, and "closer" was where he was taking a particular interest in being.

He took in the late 70's design of the cream-colored dashboard and steering wheel with a black plastic instrument panel. Inlaid among those instruments was a rectangular arching speedometer, centered with the big, round steering wheel; a rectangle analog clock; headlights pull switch; and even a push-in cigarette lighter. There was also an AM/FM radio with dials and temperature regulating controls that operated with a slider, push buttons for the A/C or heat, and a switch to turn the interior fans either on or off. The design was so utterly simplistic and... **old**. It was a surprise to Morty that a Rick would be using it at all instead of replacing all those sliders, knobs, and switches with sleek touch-sensitive buttons or even just voice-activated controls.

The carpeting on the floor was pale cream in color as well, but a bit scuffed from dirty shoes, almost exclusively on the driver's side. There was a bench seat in the back with very little leg room, and behind that was walled off from the back end of the hatchback car. Above, the tops of the gullwing doors that made the ceiling were clear glass, adding another vantage point to see out into space.

"Eyeing up my ride, eh, Morty?" Rick asked suddenly, his voice startling the winged teen for how quiet it had been since just after they took off. "Yeah, I can't blame you. She's a true work of art," he cooed running his hands over the large, thin steering wheel lovingly. "You may think she looks old, like me..." the scientist went on, giving Morty a disarmingly handsome smile, "...but just like me, she's got a lot of enhancements to keep her up to date and going strong." He winked and enjoyed the flush that stained the boy's cheeks a rosy hue.

To demonstrate, Rick twisted the volume knob beside the analog-looking radio, turning it on with a quiet mechanical click. Strange music spilled through the speakers in the vehicle, obviously alien in origin and not at all enjoyable to human ears. Rick pushed one of the buttons beneath the number dial on the radio, the small rectangular piece of metal clicking and remaining depressed, and the speakers popped and buzzed through thousands of stations so fast it sounded like a cacophony of noise garbage. It stopped as quickly as it started, and now the radio played a much more enjoyable tune with lots of grunge guitar and heavy drum beats.

Rick laughed at Morty's surprised smile. "Moral of this story is a classic, kid: never judge a book by its cover." He hummed thoughtfully. "Or, rather, don't judge my space wheels by the late 70's design. She's packin' a lot of high-tech goodies under the hood, my man. The radio being on the lowest tier of the list."

Morty smiled over at him, nodding with a little giggle. "It's really cool, Rick. I-I like it. It even has that old car smell, you know? Like kinda musty but mixed with that hot plastic and leather smell, ya know? I-I-I like it, Rick. It's a lot different than the saucer space car that my Rick had, but its..." he paused, trying to find the right word, "...unique...l-like you, Rick."

The warm smile Morty beamed up at Rick was like a shot through the heart with Cupid's mother-fucking arrow. The old scientist felt short of breath under such a beautiful gaze, and he averted his eyes to pay undue attention to where they were going.

"Ah...th-thanks..." he managed to say, hoping it didn't sound too dismissive. The last thing he wanted to do was shrug off that angelic little Morty.

To Rick's relief, the boy giggled some more, not realizing the kid was reacting to the light reddening of his cheeks after that compliment.

"Okay, Morty, let's get to planet Amoxi for those crystals, huh, bud?" he said, turning up his enthusiasm as well as the volume on the radio until the bass thumped through their guts and made them both hoot as Rick stomped on the gas.

Planet Amoxi was far from Federation space, which made it a safe place for a trial adventure for newly-paired-up Rick and Morty duos. There just happened to also be the added bonus of an abundance of Sillin crystals that grew wild on the planet's surface. Those crystals were a key ingredient for portal fluid, a highly-prized necessity for inter and extra-dimensional travel.

Rick and Morty landed without trouble and were traveling about on foot, in search of those crystals. So far, they hadn't had much luck, and Rick was getting a little frustrated. He had to wonder if other Ricks and Mortys were sneaking into his dimension to harvest the crystals instead of going to their own dimension's planet Amoxi. It wasn't out of the realm of possibility, but more likely, they had just parked a bit too far away from one of the crystal groves.

Rick pulled out a small device with an antenna and a screen and twisted a small dial on the side of it, passing the antenna back and forth in front of himself. He wasn't getting any readings either, but then again, the range on his detector wasn't very far. He made a mental note to adjust that for future outings.

Looking to his side, Rick watched his new little companion turning this way and that, taking in the alien surroundings with unmasked intrigue while also trying to keep an eye out for any glowing green crystals growing out of the ground. The old man's icy grey eyes slid over the boy's slight form appreciatively, not only interested in it on a fundamental level, but also simply happy to have his company. It was the first time he'd gone on any adventure with another person, and he found it thrilling.

Morty turned and shaded his eyes as he tried to peer as far into the distance as he could in that direction, and Rick was presented with a full view of the boy's folded wings behind his back.

Hold up...

"H-Hey, Morty," he called, and the teen turned toward him curiously. "Say, think you could take off and see if you can scout ahead for those crystals, buddy?"

Morty's eyes grew big and round as saucers. "R-Really?"

Rick nodded giving the thumbs-up. "Sure. You'd have a great vantage point up there. Circle around and see if you can spot anything."

A grin nearly split the boy's face in two. "Sure thing, Rick!" Giddily, he hunkered down and launched himself into the air, beating his wings rapidly to gain altitude before sliding into an air current and soaring ahead.

Rick followed at a trot, dividing his attention between where he was going and the little flying Morty up in the sky. If that strategy paid off, then the super scientist would have a great advantage over many an enemy, rival, even other Ricks. His Morty could even provide air support if things got dicy, or even simply have an escape route when the heat was on. It even made Rick consider building a jet pack for himself so he could have that option too.

Morty darted too far ahead for Rick to keep up, and that made him nervous. But a moment later, the boy was performing a graceful turn and heading back in his direction. Rick slowed to a stop, realizing the teenager was approaching him with purpose, and waited.

Swooping in, Morty flapped his wings rapidly to slow his descent and made a much more elegant landing than his first one a couple days ago. He trotted the last few yards toward Rick and grinned up at him happily. "Th-There's a big pile of green crystals growing just past those trees, Rick," he informed, pointing back the way he had come.

Chuckling warmly, Rick reached out and stroked over the boy's downy hair, using the occasion as an excuse to do so. That shit was so soft. He gave the kid a proud grin. "Great job, Morty! Let's go!"

With an enthusiastic nod and unable to stop smiling, Morty turned and followed Rick.

With a trunk-load of Sillin crystals, Rick and Morty headed back out into space, their trial adventure successfully completed.

As they sailed at a quick pace through the inky depths, Rick took a moment to peer at his small companion in the passenger seat. The kid looked starry-eyed, gazing out at stars not quite as bright as the boy's blue irises, and Rick's heart melted just a little bit more for him. The thought that in a few hours they would have to go back to the Morty-doption agency to either finalize the adoption or part ways permanently sat heavy in the scientist's gut. He didn't want to risk losing that angelic Morty, but he also couldn't risk not going back at all and having the guard Ricks break down his door in search of a kidnapped Morty.

He sighed quietly. He'd never do such a thing anyway. It was just a thought in his head. It was just a fear...a fear of ending up alone once again. Only now, he knew what it was like to have a companion he could really connect with, so if he was forced to give the boy up, he knew he would sink much further than he ever had before into desolation.

He liked Morty. He wanted to keep him, care for him, take him on adventures, make him meals, and pet his tufty hair and wings while they watched TV. Fuck, if Rick wasn't completely smitten with that kid. And not even totally in the romantic sense either...though, if he could also pursue that eventually, it would be very, very nice. He wasn't about to push his luck, however.

Still. He didn't want to have to go back to the Citadel. He just wanted to stay home and keep Morty forever. Although...if they went back and reported everything went well—which it did, in Rick's view—then he would be given full custody of the little winged boy, and he **could** keep him forever. But...was that what Morty wanted? Did Morty want to stay with him? God, he hoped so...

Morty turned away from stargazing out the passenger window, feeling eyes upon him, and noticed Rick watching him with a soft but sad sort of smile. The boy's lips pulled up into a sweet smile of his own and shown it upon Rick, and the old man snapped out of his reverie and cleared his throat, turning away to pay attention to his driving.

"Say...Morty..." Rick mumbled, gripping the steering wheel a little harder than was necessary.

"Yeah, Rick?" Morty replied, his sweet voice giving away his eagerness to hear what the scientist had to say.

Rick turned back to him, his smile warmer, that sadness melted away, at least visibly. "How about we make a little stop on the way home, hm?" He turned the wheel and angled the space car a little to the left, altering their course slightly.

"Wh-Where are we going, Rick?" Morty asked, his body confused as to whether it should be concerned or excited about what was happening. His heart picked up in pace and his belly felt tingly with nerves, but his hands clenched in anticipation.

Rick grinned over at him and gave a mischievous wink. "Hope you like ice cream, kiddo."

Morty's own grin could have cracked his face in two.

They pulled through a drive through on a floating asteroid and ordered their cold treats, then continued on the way home, the drive leisurely and companionable.

Morty relished in the delicacy he hadn't had since before his family died, and he felt sadly nostalgic with each little lick of the medium-sized cone of soft serve. His original used to take him out for ice cream after a rough adventure or to celebrate a successful scheme or even just for fun occasionally. It was almost comical—an old grandpa taking his grandson out for ice cream as a treat—except the old grandpa was the universe's most brilliant man and a wanted criminal, and the grandson was his unwitting but still willing accomplice.

Morty missed his Rick so much, his chest ached hollowly, and a hot wave of sadness flowed through his limbs, making them feel suddenly heavy. He stared blankly out ahead, the once enthusiastic laps of his tongue over the cold cream turning mechanical. His mind was filled with images of his original—handing him a sundae or a cone, ruffling his hair when he took it into his small hands with a happy grin—memories of park benches in the summer time and warm breezes on their faces as they enjoyed their treats...his Rick's huge, broad-feathered grey wing curving above him to shade him from the glaring sun.

He missed it...oh, he **missed** it...

Rick gave off a happy sigh and popped the bottom of the cone into his mouth and crunched on it in delighted satisfaction. Damn, that was delicious! He hadn't had an ice cream in a long time, and frankly, had forgotten how great it tasted. Though, he had to wonder if it always tasted that good, or was it because he finally had someone to eat it with that made it so much better.

Swallowing that last bite, he licked his lips, then the tips of his fingers before turning his attention to the little winged boy in the passenger seat. Freezing, he stared with sudden concern turning his veins as icy as the treat he'd just eaten.

Morty sat there, staring ahead at nothing, holding the half-eaten ice cream cone near his lips, taking lethargic swipes at it with a little tongue that seemed like it didn't have the heart to make the effort to lick. Wide tracks of tears wetted the boys soft cheeks, dripping off his jaw and chin and pattering to his yellow shirt and bluejeans. There were already substantial wet spots on the clothing, and Rick realized the boy had been sitting there silently crying for a while now.

"M...Morty?" he asked tentatively, unibrow arched in deep concern.

Morty froze at the voice, the familiarity of it driving a rusty nail in his heart. Most Ricks sounded the same, and for just the most fleeting of moments, because of where Morty's mind had just been, he thought his original had called out to him. But that moment was gone so fast, and the reality of where he was settled back in like a cold breeze. He blinked and turned his head, lowering the cone away from his lips and looking up at the Rick that was not his, eyes glassy and distant.

"Morty...hey...wh-what's wrong, buddy?" Rick asked quietly, worried about that empty look on the boy's face and in his eyes.

Morty blinked, bringing his focus back into the present fully, and looked up at Rick's very concerned expression. Just then, he realized that his face was wet, and his eyes burned from shedding so many tears. He couldn't find the strength to want to wipe them away, though, so he just sat there and stared up at the Rick that was not his and tried his best to feign a weak little smile. "It's just so good, Rick."

He lied such an obvious lie that Rick's expression caved in on itself and turned incredibly sad.

The old man reached out hesitantly toward that frail and seemingly broken little kid, halting before making contact, in part afraid to touch him, but also afraid of what his reaction might be. But the little winged Morty just sat there and stared at him, tiny fake smile on his tear and ice cream moistened lips, so Rick forged ahead. He lightly trailed a hooked finger under one eye to wipe away the wetness there, turning his hand and swiping a thin calloused thumb across the soft cheek, removing the evidence of tears from it with a tender, light touch. He cupped that little cheek in his warm palm until the light came back into the boy's eyes and he blinked up at Rick, thin brows lifting in realization that he'd spaced out so hard in his longing for his original that he practically wasn't even there in the car anymore.

Rick gave Morty a slow, sad, but understanding nod, acknowledging that he was back to his senses. "I wish...I could make it better..." he said quietly, sincerely, because he **did** want to make it better. He wanted that little Morty to be happy while in his presence because his beaming smiles were like a drug so addictive, just one and he'd been hooked. He wanted to be the one to make that boy happy, but they had only just met, and he didn't know how. Rick felt like things were suddenly spiraling out of his control, and the ever-present fear of losing that little Morty later that day took a stranglehold on his throat and heart.

Outwardly, he moved to stroke Morty's cheek with his thumb once more, then lifted his hand to run gentle fingers through the boy's feathery hair. He wanted to hold him, stroke his feathers, cradle his little head in the crook of his neck, kiss his tears away—he was so fucking enamored with that kid. It had hit him so hard and so suddenly, the very moment that they met, and it was driving him crazy.

Damn his original Rick for being such a strong influence on the boy, for dying and leaving the kid all alone and miserable...but bless that Rick for dying and giving S-322 the opportunity to have his Morty and care for him instead.

" _I want to make it better..._ " Rick whispered, stroking downy hair with gentle swipes of his fingers.

Morty stared up at him, eyes glassy but focused. A little smile pulled at his moist lips, and he closed his eyes and tilted his head into the big comforting hand in his hair. "That you said that...it does..." he said softly, opening his blue eyes again and smiling even more. The more he stared up at that Rick with his kind eyes and wishful expression, the more he came out of his funk to realize that where he currently was was a good place to be, even though he had lost much in the past.

Smiling softly, Rick lightly trailed his fingers down through downy locks and back behind a small ear. He curled them down along a slender jawline, fingertips tickling one at a time as they left the boy's small rounded chin. "I'm glad..." he mumbled truthfully, voice deep and warm.

Morty sniffled and smiled back. He wiped his face the rest of the way off, his bout of tears over, and returned his attention to the melting cone in his hand, lapping it up before it could drip too far down over his fingers and the sides of the cone.

Rick tried to ignore the little pink tongue and the heavy atmosphere between them that had only lightened a little with his consoling. He concentrated fully on continuing the drive home, not wanting to think about anything anymore.

When they finally arrived back home, Rick parked the space car inside the lab, and Morty helped him to unload the crystals from the hatchback trunk. The mood between them was much more amicable than earlier with the ice cream, the time it took to make it back to the house clearing much of the heavy air surrounding Morty's undue sadness.

Rick moved about with purpose, immediately going about starting the process of melting the Sillin crystals down and gathering other chemicals and supplies to make the portal fluid. He peered over his shoulder at the slight clatter of Morty setting the last bag of crystals down near the workbench before turning back to his work, doing all he could to bury himself in it.

Anything to stall the inevitable.

"Great job there, Morty. I don't really have anything else for you to do, though, so why don't you head down and take a bath while I'm working here. That way you'll be clean for when it's time to head back to the Citadel."

Morty hesitated for a moment, staring at the door to the stairs that lead to the sub-lab then at Rick. He watched his shoulders move and arms flex under the pristine white lab coat as the scientist worked with beakers and mixed strange substances.

"Rick?" he asked tentatively, quietly.

"Hm?"

"Um...what's gonna happen? When we go back?"

Rick stopped tinkering and looked over his shoulder at Morty for a moment, then turned back and resumed. "Guess they'll want to know how things went for us. If you liked being here with me and shit."

Morty contemplated that, biting his lip and drawing his arms up around his chest in a loose self-hug. "Things...went good... Right, Rick?"

Rick turned a smile at him then went back to work again, little glass tinks and clinks coming from the workbench in front of himself. "Sure did, Morty. I think so, anyway."

Morty took a moment to look around the lab, so much different from his original Rick's garage lab, but still so very cool. He pictured the small but cozy house through the automatic door and the nice huge bathtub that Rick made for him downstairs and the wide open skies and trees for miles outside. He rather liked it there. But it also felt like a dream that would soon be ripped away from him, and he'd wake back up, trapped in a small room with a bug-infested bed and a gaggle of bad Mortys that treated him cruelly. The only saving grace to that life had been Storage Rick. He was so nice. But that new Rick, S-322...he was even nicer, Morty reasoned.

"Rick?"

"Yeah, Morty?"

"Um...will...will they l-let me come back here? Maybe?"

Rick turned to look at him again, longer. The kid looked hopeful but apprehensive, like he was afraid of the answer. Rick sat on his stool and spun to face Morty, resting his elbows to his knees and slouching. "Kid...the whole point in you coming here and spending a couple days with me is to see if you wanna **stay** with me. For good. I'm lookin' to adopt you, Morty. You'd be **my** Morty. And I'd be **your** Rick. And you would stay here with me permanently."

"I won't...have to go back?" Morty asked, reserved hope lifting his voice a half octave.

Rick smirked and shook his head. "Nope. You and me would stay here and hang out and go on more adventures and get more ice cream...if...if you wanted, anyway." He cleared his throat and glanced off to the side awkwardly. Shit, that just flew out of his mouth. It was what he wanted, but who knew how Morty would react if they ever went out for cones again.

He looked back, seeing the boy nervously biting his lip and staring at him with that apprehensively hopeful expression again. Rick smiled at that and opened his mouth to continue with, "It would be Rick and Morty... You and me... Forever and forever."

Morty sniffed, a memory surfacing of his own Rick saying something similar to him a long time ago. His little shoulders slumped, and his wings drooped down onto the floor. For as much fun as he was having, and for as much as he liked that new Rick, he still couldn't keep the thoughts of his original from cropping up and breaking his heart all over again. It hadn't bothered him that much for a long time, but being thrust back into the full-time company of a Rick again was pulling all of Morty's repressed sadness to the surface and reminding him of how much he truly loved and missed his original. Fat tears pooled in his reddening eyes and spilled down his little cheeks.

"Aww...don-don't cry, Morty," Rick whined, stiffening and sitting straight up on the stool. Oh, great, he just fucked things up again, didn't he. "Do you not want to hang out with me? Did you want to go back to the daycare and not stay here?"

Morty shook his head and wiped at his face. "It's not that... I-I just... Yo-You're like him...but even nicer...and no w-wings..."

Rick quieted for a minute, staring at Morty a couple feet away, sniffling and hiccuping and pawing at his eyes and cheeks, trying but failing to keep the tears at bay. And those pretty wings, drooping and dragging on the floor behind him. The poor kid was the picture of sadness.

"Morty..." he called softly. When the boy looked toward him, he extended his arms out a little in offering. "Would you-uh...w-wanna come here?" he asked nervously. He patted his lap a couple times then opened his arms again. "Don't have to, but...I-I'm here...y-you know..."

Morty wiped his face a little and stared. Those arms looked so long but inviting, and that chest looked big and solid, even though it was still slender, clad in familiar teal and crisp white, and those brown slacks looked worn and soft. Slowly, Morty approached, but hesitated right in front of Rick, cupping his arms against his little chest and staring up at him with big wet eyes.

Rick merely smiled and waited patiently, knowing anything else would probably be unwelcome.

Morty finally moved, slowly crawling onto the old man's lap and sitting there sideways, legs curled up and arms wrapped around them. His toes clutched Rick's pants on his left leg for stability, and his wings lifted backward just a little to help balance.

It was the first time he'd held Morty at all, and Rick marveled at how light the boy was. He barely weighed fifty or sixty pounds! No wonder he was so nimble and flew so swiftly. Now wasn't the time for those observations, though, so Rick very gently cupped a hand to Morty's slender shoulder, nearly engulfing the whole thing. He avoided the wing near it, even though he really wanted to touch that too.

"You really loved him...didn't you."

"Mm...mm-hmm..." The winged boy nodded, sniffing loudly.

"I get it. Look, Morty..." Rick sighed, truly sad they had to be having that conversation, but knowing it was probably inevitable, given the circumstances. "I'm sorry shit happened the way it did. I'm sorry you lost him...and the rest of your family too for that matter," he added as an afterthought. "I realize that he meant everything to you. And it seems like being here with me is making you remember him a lot. But listen, Morty... Even though he and I are essentially the same person since we're both Ricks...I think maybe you understand that I'm **not** him...an' I ain't tryin' to be...and it's bustin' you up inside," he offered as a haphazard analysis of the boy's thoughts and feelings in hopes to help him work though them.

"I-I know that, Rick," Morty mumbled, reaching up to wipe under his nose with the back of his hand. "I-It's just that...I've been mostly alone ever since I...I lost him..." He hung his head sadly, propping his chin against his drawn knees. "And the only Ricks that I really knew were Storage, and—and I met Agent a while back too, but just a couple times. So, like...you're the first Rick that I've spent a lot of time with since..." He swallowed, hating even to mention that his original was gone. "So...so..."

Gently, Rick stroked his hand along the boy's shoulder, feeling the delicate bones underneath the thin fabric of his shirt. The kid felt so frail, his whole body lightly moving along with the tender strokes of his hand. It truly brought to mind holding a tiny baby bird in his palm when he was young, the thing so delicate, so fragile, that it would sway with every breath and was easily pushed around with only a fingertip. "I understand, Morty," he said warmly. "Being with a Rick full time again is really dredging up those old memories, hm?"

Nodding, Morty sniffed and tilted his head, wiping a cheek off along his knee.

"I see how it is, buddy. Don't—It's okay." He gave a few light pats to the boy's shoulder. "I know it might be hard, but try to keep in mind that me and your old Rick really are different from each other. So...maybe that'll help you...I dunno...cope better?" Rick grimaced to himself and internally groaned. He was so, so horrible at pep talks and cheering people up. It felt like his loner lifestyle and inexperience with people was never more apparent than right then. Frankly, it was embarrassing.

Morty propped a cheek to his knee and looked sideways at Rick, watching his older face dust with a pinkish color. It was a rather endearing sight, and he couldn't help but give the old man a little smile, weak as it was. "I get that—that you're not the same, Rick. Actually, it's kinda obvious you're really different from my Grampa Rick. And r-really, I never wanted you to be the same as him. I-I never expected th-that. And y-you said before you don't wanna be like my Rick...like—like a grampa to me, or—or like a parent or something... So...so what **are** you trying to be, Rick?"

The scientist shrugged, keeping his palm cupped to the kid's shoulder but lifting his fingers away with the motion then returning them to their original resting place, lightly laying along the boy's upper back. Very, very subtly, as though Rick didn't even realize he was doing it himself, his fingers drew back and forth with small motions right above the boy's shirt collar, stroking the incredibly soft skin of his nape. "Nothing, Morty. I'm just a lonely old Rick...that just wants a Morty. I'm hoping that Morty'll be you, but I'm not gonna **make** you choose me. You don't have to stay here, if you don't want to. If I remind you of your Rick too much or something. If being with me is gonna cause you heartache...then maybe when we go back to the Citadel...you should tell them you don't wanna stay with me," he offered, internally gritting his teeth and screaming at himself for being so fucking empathetic that he'd just willingly tell the kid to leave if he wasn't happy.

Morty lifted his head from his knees and looked at him with wide eyes, shocked. "B-But you want me to stay, don't you?"

Rick smiled, gently caressing his fingers up and down along the small teen's shoulder more consciously that time. "Sure I do, Morty. I'd love for you to stay."

"S-So why t-tell me to tell them I don't want to?"

"I said, if being with me is gonna be too upsetting—"

"But won't you make me stay anyway?"

A look of hurt crossed Rick's features, and he tensed, his hand freezing on the boy's thin shoulder. "Morty...I'd never force you to do something you didn't want to. I'm not that kind'a Rick."

Morty felt torn between confusion and surprise and hope, staring at him.

"I've already made my decision on whether I want you to stay or not," Rick told him with a soft, gravelly voice. "So it's gonna be up to you if you want to come live with me or go back to the daycare."

Morty could barely believe what he was hearing. Was a Rick really looking him in the eye and telling him to make a decision that would affect them both, probably for the rest of their lives?

"Look, Morty... I'm not ever going to be your original Rick, okay?"

Morty looked down, saddened, but knowing that was already the truth.

"But I can still be your **new** Rick."

The winged boy looked back up, a little more hopeful.

"And if you can accept that and tolerate that, then I'd love it if you stayed here with me. But it's your call, bro."

Morty dropped his gaze again, contemplative.

"You think it over. Why don't you go have that bath now. Least I can do is return you cleaner than I found you. Heh!" Rick chuckled, patting the kid on the shoulder lightly.

Nodding, Morty hopped down from Rick's lap and made his way to the sub-lab, leaving the old man to sigh and stare at his work, feeling suddenly drained and uninspired. Real worry settled in Rick's gut that his brief happiness was going to ripped away very soon.

Cupping his head in his shaking hands, he leaned his elbows on the workbench and sagged on the stool.

After washing himself in that amazing tub that Rick made for him, Morty stared up at the rippling reflections of light from the water shimmering across the ceiling, watching them as he floated on his back and contemplated everything Rick had said.

If he went back to the daycare, he'd have to live in that small room and have his meals delivered at specific times a day and only be able to interact with Storage Rick, who was nice, but his visits were always very brief because he had other things to do, other Mortys to take care of. The showers were small, made for Mortys without wings, and he wouldn't be able to fly again. He could hope another Rick came along wanting to adopt him, but he would probably have the same issue with him as he was having with S-322. And a new Rick might not be as nice or accommodating as S-322 had been.

Morty looked around at the bathroom, supplies, and tub again, running a hand along the edge of it, appreciating it so much.

If he stayed, he ran the risk of alienating his new Rick because of his feelings for his original Rick. Rick S-322 made it clear he wasn't trying to be like Morty's original, be it like a grandfather or a...Morty blushed...a lover. Rick didn't seem bothered that Morty and his Rick used to be intimate, but he said so many times he wasn't trying to be like the boy's original, so that must have meant he didn't want their relationship to be sexual either. Morty wasn't sure if he wanted an intimate relationship with that Rick or not. He just knew he liked the old man and that he was so nice and warm and welcoming and understanding and...and so gentle... Fuck, that old man had the most gentle touches, especially when he stroked his long fingers through Morty's feathered hair or caressed around his sensitive ears just as he was withdrawing those tender fingers. And then, just a short time ago, while sitting on that big Rick's lap for the first time...oh, damn, the way that old man had cupped his shoulder, and the way he had so very subtly stroked along the nape of his neck...

Morty blushed and sank his head into the warm water up to his upper lip. He blew a few bubbles as he thought about where his mind was going just then. He really did like Rick. He really liked his house and his lab and his neat space car that wasn't built out of a pile of garbage. He'd only been there for three days, and already he was getting used to the place and would miss it terribly if he decided to leave for good.

And it was going to be up to him to decide that, he fully realized.

Rick wanted him to stay.

Did Morty really want the same?


	6. Home to Roost

The automatic door to the Meet-N-Greet room at the Morty-doption agency slid open with a quiet hiss, allowing Storage Rick and Agent Rick passage.

"S-Sorry to keep you waiting," Agent Rick announced, sounding a bit flustered as he wobbled a little, balancing a thick folder of messy papers in the crook of one arm and a portable electronic tablet occupying his other hand.

"Dumbass lost his rickPad and then dropped his shit all over the floor," Storage Rick tattled, smirking. His toothpick clicked against his teeth a little as he passed it from one corner of his mouth to the other. Agent Rick grunted irritatedly at him, and Storage's smirk turned into a wicked grin.

"Storage!" Morty gushed, leaping up off the couch where he had been seated beside Rick, waiting with baited breath and a gut full of nerves for the officials' arrival. "I missed you!" He ran over and hopped up into Storage Rick's arms, snuggling happily against his chest and cupping his wings around the man's shoulders in a hug.

"Aww hey there, little guy," Storage hummed warmly, supporting the boy's weight with an arm under his butt and stroking along his slender back beneath one wing. "Missed you too. I got no other winged Mortys to look after, so you being gone really threw me off for a while there."

Morty leaned back and looked up at him with sad guilt pulling up his thin eyebrows. He opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by a loud slam that jolted both him and Storage Rick.

Agent Rick stood back to full height, hands to the small of his back and bending backward, cracking his spine loudly. The huge file folder was now lying on the coffee table, the papers spilling out across the surface. "Okay," he sighed with relief, dragging one of the plush leather chairs closer and sitting down with a huff, "let's get this show on the road. We have one more short interview with the both of you, then you got a shit-ton of documents to sign, Three twenty-two." Agent pulled out a flask from the inner breast pocket of his dark blue blazer and took a quick gulp before replacing it. "This is always the shi- _iirrrght_ -ttiest part," he grumbled, reaching down to make an attempt at arranging the papers a little more neatly.

Rick sat a little forward on the couch and propped his elbows to his knees. He eyed the pile of paperwork which he already detested. "Paper forms? Really?" he asked incredulously, arching his brow at Agent Rick.

"Ugh, I know. Blame the Rick in charge of the adoption department. He's all 'back in my day' and 'computers can be hacked, paper is harder to forge' bullshit. It's a waste of fucking time, but it's how we do things here. If you wanted less paperwork, you should have opted to get a Morty from the Academy instead. Those Mortys are just assigned to Ricks after they graduate, and all you gotta do is sign their registration and acceptance form."

Shaking his head, Rick sat back on the couch again, lifting one leg and propping his ankle up onto his opposite knee casually. "I thought about it, but that's more of a first come, first serve basis. Who knows what kind'a Morty I would have gotten. But doing the adoption was a way to get paired up with a Morty that was more compatible with me. I'm not in this just to simply pick up any random Morty."

Agent nodded, picking up a thick stack of papers he had arranged and tapping the bottoms against the coffee table, lining them up perfectly. "Frankly, I'm glad you did. A majority of Ricks choose the assignment method since it's just easier, and any Morty will do for them. But when that doesn't work out, or they're too far back in line and there aren't enough Mortys graduating, they overflow into the adoption system instead. But, some Ricks do opt to adopt right off the bat. Usually, it's a Rick that actually cared a lot for his grandson and wants to replace him with another he can care about, not just grab another sidekick as a shield. But the daycare is often more crowded with Mortys, so they actually need to have more Ricks adopting and less going through the Academy."

Rick grunted, nodding his head. He **was** glad he went through the adoption process, long-winded and agonizing as it was. Otherwise, he never would have met such an amazing Morty. Speaking of which, Rick turned his attention over to Storage Rick, cradling the little winged Morty as though he belonged in his arms. It took all his effort to not let on how jealous he was—that green monster gnawing at his guts and making him feel hot and squirmy.

Now that the initial conversation seemed to be over, he watched Storage cart Morty across the seating area and sit with him on the love seat, arranging the boy on his lap comfortably as though he'd done it a million times already. And Morty, that cute little shit, just allowed himself to be moved, like he trusted that other Rick implicitly with his fragile body.

Rick clenched his fists, but forced himself to remember that he himself barely knew Morty, had only spent three days with him, and the boy had yet to learn to trust him. And he was still afraid he might never get the chance to earn that sweet little Morty's confidence.

"Okay, Rick," Agent began, sighing and leaning back in the leather chair. He crossed his legs at the knee and held his rickPad against the raised thigh, tapping a stylus against the blank, lit screen. "How'd it go?"

Rick glanced back and forth between Agent, Storage, and Morty, crossing his arms across his slender chest. He shrugged his shoulders as nonchalantly as possible. "It—It went okay, I guess."

Agent's unibrow arched in obvious incredulity. "You...guess?"

Rick shrugged again, continuing to feign nonchalance as hard as he could. "Yeah, I mean...we didn't fight or anything."

Agent sighed and pinched at the bridge of his nose to stave off the headache he dreaded coming. He had been hoping that Rick S-322 would be a lot easier to deal with than most Ricks since he was so right-leaning on the Rick scale, but then he remembered it had been a bit difficult to get the guy to open up during his first interview. Sometimes, Agent Rick really hated his job.

"Okay, well, how about you, Morty? How did things go?" he asked the boy who sat perched on Storage Rick's lap.

"Um..." Morty mumbled, shyly eyeing up Rick. He really had enjoyed his time in that old man's company, and he so loved being able to fly again and the bathtub and the food and the adventure...even the ice cream...but he was also heavily stricken by the memories of his original Rick, they staining all of the good times he had had the last three days...especially during the few final hours before they returned to the Citadel. "It was o-okay, I guess," he managed to say quietly, averting his eyes and leaning closer to Storage Rick for comfort.

Rick tore his eyes away from that sight, his heart forming cracks. So, the little guy **hadn't** enjoyed being with him very much, then. He'd suspected it, but seeing Morty's sad face, his hesitant answer, the way he curled more into Storage Rick like the bastard could protect him from his pain...that hurt. That really fucking hurt. Rick thought he had done a decent job in trying to connect with the little winged boy, thought he was kind enough, thought he was **good** **enough** to take care of a Morty.

Maybe...maybe he had been wrong all along.

"Where did you get those clothes, Morty?" Agent asked suddenly, noting the somber air making the room feel heavy.

"Oh, uh," Morty looked down at himself, realizing he was wearing the clothes that Rick had made for him, not the normal-sized Morty clothes that hung off of him like bags. "R-Rick made them for me."

Storage whistled lightly, taking the yellow fabric on the sleeve of the boy's shirt and rubbing it between his fingers. "This is some high quality shit, Three twenty-two. Lightweight, stretchy... Aren't the fibers that make this material super rare? As in it can only be harvested from a specific plant once every few years on some remote-ass planet in the Dee-J system?" he asked, quirking his brow in amusement.

Rick cleared his throat awkwardly and stared off to the side, shrugging his shoulders and huffing. "Whatever. I had plenty to spare laying around, no big deal. Kid needed clothes that fit. The shit you guys made him wear was too baggy; he—he was practically falling out of 'em," he grumbled irritably.

Morty couldn't help blushing, curling his fingers into the hem of his fitted shirt and stroking it. He really did like the clothes that Rick had made for him. Several sets, including pajamas, he realized. Looking up at Rick, he noticed the man was avoiding looking at everyone, but there was a slight pinkish hue along his cheeks.

"Where did you go on your adventure?" Agent asked, jotting something down with the stylus on his rickPad.

"We went to Amoxi for portal crystals," Rick replied flatly.

"And how did that go?"

He shrugged. "Fine."

Agent Rick rubbed along his forehead in exasperation. "Care to elaborate on that?"

"What?" Rick grumbled, lifting one arm in a more dramatic shrug. "We went there, couldn't find them right away, then Morty flew around 'till he spotted some for me. Bang boom. Grabbed a shit-ton of the stuff and went back home. Done deal. Simple. Not much to talk about there."

Agent lifted his brow and cast a glance to Storage Rick who returned the look, also a bit surprised. "You let him fly?"

Rick stared directly at Agent Rick, frowning in incredulity. "Of course I did. Why wouldn't I? Look at him—he's got fuckin' wings, man."

Morty flushed when Rick sent attention his way and shied closer to Storage again. It was strange...how Rick could make him feel so embarrassed yet also enjoy that sensation at the same time.

Agent Rick nodded in understanding, jotting something else down on his tablet. "Yeah, but, I gotta ask: **why** did you let him fly? You do realize you basically took a new pet home and unleashed it outside to roam free in unfamiliar territory? He could have easily gotten lost or even ran away from you. You two had just met. He had no loyalty toward you, even if you are a Rick and he's a Morty."

Rick scowled and uncrossed his arms, sitting forward on the couch, and jabbed a rigid finger in Agent's direction. "What the fuck would you know, asshole! Are you seriously comparing Morty to a fuckin' **pet**?! Just because he has wings doesn't mean he's a fuckin' animal, you piece of shit!" He turned his attention to Morty, curled on Storage's lap, hunching into himself and tucking his wings tightly against his back, like he was trying to make them as inconspicuous as possible. He looked upset and flushed, biting his lip and darting his eyes toward Rick and away, as if afraid to look right at him. Rick seethed, watching the kid react like that. It only made him want to defend the poor little thing that much harder, even though he was afraid his outburst might be scaring the timid boy.

"The kid's got wings—he's meant to fly with them. He can't do that here on this shitty Citadel. I told him he could fly when I first met him, right here in this room, and almost as soon as we got to my place, I let him do it. Stick that in your stupid file, bureaucrat!" he snarled, pointing at Agent's rickPad. "That's right, asshole, I let him fly at my place, **and** out on our adventure. I was even having thoughts of him being able to provide air support for dangerous missions." He crossed his arms, smirking smugly. "What else do you wanna know that I let him do, huh? I let him sleep in my bed. Yeah, that's right!"

Agent and Storage exchanged looks with quirked eyebrows.

"And I let him watch interdimensional cable for hours. I made him a pool-sized tub to wash in and left him in there unsupervised. I even got the kid some ice cream after our adventure!" Rick huffed with frustration, bouncing a foot rapidly on the floor. "I gave him freedom, you rule-loving, stifling Rick-bastards! Which is a hell of a lot more than he ever would have gotten in this shitty hell-hole you call a Citadel. You kept him locked away in a dirty cage for over a fuckin' year! Poor little thing was infested with bugs 'cause he can't clean himself properly here! He was withering under your 'care', and I was allowing him to flourish!" He pointed a finger toward the little Morty, turning his head to view the boy cowering and hiding his face in Storage's light blue over-shirt. Rick's anger died away at that sight, his bones melting and frame sagging, concern gripping his guts like a vice and squeezing every ounce of empathy he had into his veins, making him simultaneously hot and cold.

He felt sick.

Everyone in the room was stark silent in the wake of Rick's angry rant.

Flustered with his own outburst and shaking with adrenaline, Rick collapsed back against the couch and reached into his lab coat. His hand emerged with a silver flask, and he unscrewed the cap and took a long gulp.

Morty peeked out from Storage's shirt and witnessed the old scientist he had been staying with for three days. He let out a very quiet breath, a mere exhale in surprise. It was the first time he'd actually seen Rick drink alcohol since they met. He hadn't even realized at the time that Rick hadn't been drinking during his stay. That realization was a surging shock to him, and his large round eyes remained glued to the old man, watching his pronounced adam's apple bobbing with each deep swallow. It was mesmerizing.

Rick had...stayed sober?...for him?

Rick S-322 pulled the flask away from his wet lips and let out a satisfied belch before wiping the back of his hand along his mouth. He lowered the silver container, propping it against one slim thigh, and dared to look over at that angelic little Morty once more. The boy was peeking at him from behind Storage Rick's unbuttoned blue shirt, and the shock on his slender face was more than pronounced.

Rick's face crumpled and he looked away, ashamed. "He's..." he began, voice subdued, "He's a good Morty... A special Morty. I-I got along with him... He made me laugh... We...we had a good time... At least...at least **I** had a good time..."

Agent Rick turned a smug little smile toward Storage, who nodded his head and smirked around his toothpick.

"Excellent...excellent..." Agent piped happily, scribbling something else down on his rickPad. "I'm glad to hear that, Rick...all of that..." He smirked up at Rick, watching his expression twist around into confusion. He chuckled at the old man. "Still prone to fits, I see..."

"Tch," Rick huffed, frowning and shaking his head, done with talking for the time being lest he embarrass himself or scare Morty further. Despite giving the interviewer everything he wanted, it seemed, he still couldn't shake the thought that he'd also simultaneously ruined his chance to have Morty agree to live with him. Who would want to go with him after a rant like that? Even though he was only defending the boy, it still sounded crass, loud, and scary.

"Morty?" Agent Rick asked softly, vying for the boy's attention.

Timidly, Morty withdrew his face completely from Storage Rick's shirt. He slowly tore his eyes away from Rick and landed them on Agent, swallowing with nerves and shivering slightly.

With a gentle hand, Storage rubbed at the boy's back beneath his wings, trying to comfort him, but the touch suddenly felt a bit unwelcome. It wasn't as gentle as Rick's touch, and Morty could easily tell the difference.

"Morty, you've had the opportunity to stay with Rick S-three twenty-two for a couple days. You know what you did while you were there, and you know how you got along with Rick during that time, whether good or bad... It sounds like it was good, but I want to hear your opinion now. What do you think about him? Would you like it if Rick adopted you? Would you want to go and live with him?"

Morty glanced at Rick and swallowed, chewing on his lip nervously. "Um...I...I-I uh..." He swallowed again, heavily. "I...I th-thought he was...nice... L-Like my original Rick...but...more..." Little fingers fumbled together in his lap, nervously twisting about each other as he stared down at them. "I-I-I...I don't kn-know...um..."

Rick squeezed his eyes tightly, turning his face away and gritting his teeth as well as grasping his flask in tight fingers. He knew it. He knew the shadow of Morty's original Rick was too long and too dark to overcome. It would be impossible to compete with the boy's memory of his original. Everything Rick would do or say would be judged against the original. The winged Rick's presence in the boy's mind was too strong of a force, weighing the kid down and making him critical of every move and decision Rick would make. They would never be able to fully connect and become a functioning Rick and Morty team at that rate. The kid was just too hung up—too in love—to let the past settle and move on.

And Rick didn't have the strength in him to fight for what he really wanted. He was too soft...to weak......too fucking **understanding** to want to force his way between Morty and the memory of the man he loved. As wrecked as he felt over not being able to keep such a sweet, angelic little Morty, he still couldn't muster the gumption to argue for himself. Because he'd already said his piece. He'd already treated Morty with kindness and a gentle hand. He'd already given the boy pep talks and treated him like a human being. And he had even given the kid things of material nature to make his stay a nice one. But apparently...none of it was actually good enough to get the boy to look at him as anything other than a cheap copy of the original.

Rick wiped a hand over his brow before tipping his flask to his lips again, pulling a nice long gulp. It burned his throat a lot more than it previously would have, since he'd managed to sober up for the entire process of trying to adopt a Morty. But the stress of the current situation was too much, even for a man as patient as him.

"It's okay, Morty... I get it," he said softly, not looking at anyone in the room. Rick chugged another drink then stood up, tucking his nearly empty flask away. "We're done here."

Shocked, Agent Rick stood as well. "Excuse me?"

Ignoring him, Rick turned to Morty, giving him a smile that spoke of sadness but also of understanding. "Look, I...I hope someday you can find a Rick that'll make you happy again, Morty. Sorry I wasn't up to snuff. My inexperience with Mortys makes me a bad candidate for one, anyway."

Storage and Agent exchanged nervous, worried glances, both of them unprepared for such a twist. They had initially thought that everything was going to run so smoothly, like most Morty-doptions do. Almost always, the final interview after the trial period lasted less than five minutes because both the Rick and the Morty were usually enthusiastic about agreeing to stay paired together. Agent Rick should have known something was up as soon as Rick started off with his hesitant answers. But he had thought that the pairing he'd made was so perfect, that there was no room for it to fail.

" _Shit_ ," Agent muttered to himself, quickly heading over to Rick and taking his upper arm in a tight grip, yanking and turning them both slightly away in order to speak to him quietly. "You can't be serious, man. I'm never wrong when I pick compatible Ricks and Mortys. You can't tell me you don't want to keep him!"

Rick huffed, shaking his head. "Look, pal, it's not whether I do or don't. The kid's got a huge hang-up on his original. It...it tainted the whole trial run. He loves his original too much, and...and I'm basically just a—a cheap copy." Closing his eyes, he faced the floor, rubbing a hand along his forehead in frustration. "He obviously isn't interested in staying with me, so what's the point of continuing this farce? I'm too much of a softy Rick to force him, and you know it." He sighed and gave Agent Rick a defeated but bemused smile. "Besides, you said before that you're only 99.99% accurate with pairing Ricks and Mortys..." His thin shoulders shrugged high, but sagged immediately after. "Looks like I'm part of the .01%"

Flustered, Agent Rick ping-ponged his gaze back and forth between the sad little Morty clinging to Storage and Rick S-322 who looked even more miserable. "Well...- _ahem_ -...s-since this didn't work out...did you want me to pair you with a different Morty?" he offered.

Rick's icy grey eyes drifted over to Morty who stared at him with widening eyes that were glistening in the overhead lights in the room. The kid was so damn beautiful...so sweet. He smiled softly, sadness pulling at the corners of his mouth. "No."

Shocked, Agent sputtered, "But—But w-wait—all that time you spent grinding through the system! You can't tell me you don't even **want** a Morty now!"

Rick turned fully, presenting his back to them all, and tucked his hands into his pants pockets. "Look...it didn't work out. I guess...I'm just not Morty material. If...if the one I was paired with that was supposed to be the most compatible with me doesn't want me..." He sighed deeply, shoulders dropping. "I guess...I guess S-Ricks just aren't meant to have Mortys..." Back slumping and shoulders sagging even further, he muttered, "I'm—I'm going home..." His feet moved lethargically, taking a few steps toward the door. It swished open, anticipating his approach.

"Wait!" Morty cried suddenly. He struggled out of Storage Rick's arms, pushing the surprised old man's hands away and leaping down onto the floor. "Rick! Rick!" He scrabbled across the rug, loosing his footing occasionally in his mad haste.

Rick turned just before the doorway, surprised at the outburst he never expected to hear, and saw that Morty was already just a few feet away. He wasn't prepared when the boy leapt up into his arms and clung to him as tight as his hollow bones allowed. Knocked back, Rick fell against the doorjamb from the impact. Even though Morty was so light, his momentum was enough to throw the old man off balance. Quickly, out of reflex, he brought his arms up to cradle Morty to himself and support his weight, even though he probably didn't need to since the small teen already had a death grip with his toes on the pants around his hips and his arms locked around the scientist's neck.

"I-I'm sorry, Rick! Don't go! I-I-I was just confused, and I hesitated and—and watching you leaving without me hurt so much, Rick!" Alligator tears cascaded down his slender cheeks, and Morty buried his face against Rick's teal shirt over his collarbone. "It hurt so much, Rick! I wanna stay with you! I really wanna stay! I-I didn't mean to hurt your feelings 'cause of my old Rick. An' I really want you to be my new Rick. Really, really!" He sobbed and shuffled against Rick's chest, grabbing the lapel of his lab coat and pulling, burying his face under it and trying to hide.

That sight shocked Rick, but pride quickly rushed in a moment later. He'd so wanted Morty to do the same things with him as he did with Storage or Agent—Ricks he trusted. Finally, the boy was clinging to him and hiding in his coat, and Rick couldn't have been happier. In fact, he was elated. His heart pounded strongly and warmth spread throughout his body. "Morty..." he mumbled softly, eyes lidding contentedly as he lifted a hand to pet along Morty's downy hair, sticking out from the lapel of his coat.

Morty sniffled and whimpered, immediately recognizing that gentle touch and wanting nothing more than to bask in it forever. He tipped his head up into the old man's hand and rubbed his own head under it, nuzzling and forcing Rick to pet at him even more. Then he went a step further, bringing his wings around to wrap Rick's torso, overlapping them behind his back and drawing tightly.

Rick was utterly taken aback by the move, looking back and forth between both wings wrapped around either of his sides in probably the most unique hug he'd ever had.

"Don't give up, Rick..." Morty whined from inside the scientist's lab coat, his voice muffled by the fabric. "Please...please let me stay with you... Please, Rick..."

Rick smiled at the little head buried in his white coat. Moving the hand that was in the boy's tufty hair, he brought it down and slowly stroked it along the leading edge of one wing wrapped around him.

Fuck, that touch was so gentle, Morty shivered.

" _I'd love for you to be my Morty, kid... As long as you want me to be your Rick..._ " he whispered to the teen clinging to him desperately.

Morty nodded inside the coat, then pulled his face out to stare up at him with pleading, wet eyes and flushed cheeks. "I do... I really, really do, Rick."

Sighing in insurmountable relief, Rick cupped the boy's head against his chest, drawing him just a little closer in a gentle embrace. "You got it." His gaze lifted to Agent Rick who looked almost as relieved as he was. "Well?... Where do I sign?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Together at last! It only took 6 chapters. LOL XD Told you it was a slow burn fic...and there's plenty more slow burn action to come! (...sounds like a contradiction...LOL) I hope you are enjoying the story so far, and I hope that you'll continue to return for future chapters! Thank you for reading! <3


	7. Mortyxamination

A brand new day at the beginning of a brand new life dawned hours ago, and Morty found himself drowsily meandering his way through Rick's house, emerging into the lab with the soft hiss of the automatic door in the kitchen. Rick was already in there, sitting on the rolling stool at one section of his workbench along the far wall, his back facing Morty.

Upon hearing the door, Rick swiveled around in his seat and grinned a wide grin at the little winged boy slowly making his way across the room, yawning and rubbing at his face. The sight was so welcome to his lonely heart, a sight he would finally be privy to from now on. It made him feel giddy.

"Hey, Morty!" he greeted happily. "Finally decided to wake up, huh?"

Morty stopped a few feet away and crossed his arms over his chest to hold his upper arms, shrugging his shoulders high and nibbling at his lip in a shy posture. "S-Sorry, Rick," he mumbled, his wings tucking tighter against his back. "Th-That bed you made for me is super comfy, though. I-I fell asleep almost as soon as I laid down last night, a-and I never woke up all night." That it was the best sleep he had had in ages was left unsaid, but the look of absolute relief, little timid smile, and light blush to his cheeks spoke that phrase in volumes.

Rick chuckled and casually leaned his elbows back on the workspace behind himself. Now that Morty was permanently staying with him, the kid needed his own bed to sleep in. Rick couldn't give his own up forever, after all. But his bedroom was small, and the design of the house didn't allow for another room to be constructed without some major and inconvenient rearranging. So he had simply made Morty a loft bed above his own, with supports along the wall underneath it and the one free hanging corner anchored to the ceiling. It had a ladder to climb up next to the wall near the bedroom door, and a short rail around the outer edge to keep the boy from rolling off. The thing was big and square, about as big as a king-sized bed with a headboard that also served as a shelf along the back wall. It extended from the corner and expanded halfway across the room, large and cushy enough to very comfortably rest a small body with wings, stacked with several pillows and thick blankets for warmth and a bit of luxury. The thing was in total contrast to Rick's own bed—a mere twin-sized mattress with only a cheap metal frame to keep the thing from resting directly on the floor. Comfort for himself was never really on his mind, since he rarely slept in the conventional bed to begin with. He'd usually end up slumped over the workbench in his lab or passing out on the couch while watching TV.

Rick knew he was spoiling the shit out of Morty, but he didn't care. He fucking loved doing it. It gave him an ego boost like a warm but electric high, knowing he was giving the kid the best of the best, better than the boy had ever had. Be it something as simple as a bed or as complex as taking the teenager out on a week-long, fly-by-the-seat-of-their-pants-but-coming-out-on-top adventure, Rick wanted Morty to believe wholeheartedly that he had made the right decision to stay with him. He wanted to do all he could to help the small teen forget his year-long stay on that shitty Citadel of Ricks in that shitty little room all by himself.

"Don't worry about it, buddy. I'm just glad you liked it."

Morty beamed a smile at him and nodded quickly. "Sure do, Rick! It—It really is the best bed ever!"

Rick laughed and shrugged his shoulders casually, like he knew that already, because of **course** it would be the best bed ever since **he** made it.

"Did you eat, Morty?"

The boy nodded. "I-I found some cereal in the kitchen," he said, thumbing over his shoulder.

Rick nodded in return. "Good." He turned back around and fiddled with whatever he had been working on before Morty came in, letting the room go otherwise silent.

Biting his lip in sudden nervousness, Morty tried to discreetly peer over the old scientist's shoulder, but wasn't close enough to really tell what he was doing. He only heard little clinks and metal clanks coming from whatever Rick was manipulating in his hands. He stood there, shifting his weight from one foot to another, fidgeting with his hands and rubbing his wings back and forth along his arms.

Finally, when it didn't look like Rick was going to say anything else, Morty swallowed his nerves and opened his mouth to say, "S-So um...wh-what are we d-doing today, Rick?"

Another couple clinks sounded in front of the old man, but then he turned back around and smiled at Morty again. "Today, I-I'm gonna need to give you a physical exam, Morty. Run a few tests and stuff."

Morty stiffened and tucked his wings tightly against his back and hid the lengths of them behind his legs. "E-E...Ex-Exam?" he stuttered, leaning backward and ready to bolt if he had to.

"Sure, Morty. If you're gonna be my partner, I gotta know your specific biology in case I ever need to render aid to you. If—If you get injured on a mission or something, I'll know exactly what you need in order to fix you," Rick explained matter-of-factly.

The tension in Morty's body eased a little, but he still didn't look too happy. "W-Will it...h-hurt?" he asked, shrugged into himself and giving Rick a pleading expression. He still couldn't forget the horror stories he'd overheard other Mortys tell.

Rick shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. "Doubt it. It might pinch when I take a blood or tissue sample, but you'll be fine, dawg. S'not like I'm gonna dissect you or anything." He smiled warmly, and it and his words calmed Morty further.

"O-Okay, Rick..." he consented, giving the old man a little smile of his own.

Grinning, Rick stood and grabbed the metal contraption—shaped vaguely like a gun—on the workbench and waved with it for Morty to follow him. They descended the stairs into the sub-lab, two floors down, to a large rectangular space that was made out of and housed futuristic Rick-tech. The room was a lot smaller than the warehouse-sized space one floor up. It was a lot less of a storage space, and a lot more of a place to run "experiments".

Lights blinked and control panels scrolled displays throughout the dark grey room that was lit with blue and teal track lighting. All around the upper edge of the room there were rectangle fuchsia panels that emitted light as well, giving the whole place that "80's high-tech future" vibe that Morty recognized anywhere as an aesthetic that Ricks liked to create.

Rick waved for Morty to come over to where he was standing beside a metal bench about waist high to him. It was situated along the right-hand wall, and when Rick hit a button on a control panel attached to the bench, white spotlights lit the surface from above.

"Strip and hop up, Morty," Rick instructed, patting the metal surface.

Morty stared up at him with wide eyes and shied into himself again. "S...S-Strip?" he whined nervously.

Rick lifted his hands in arrest. "Don't worry, kid, I'm not after anything unsavory. But I can't give you a proper exam without being able to give you a full inspection, you know?"

Morty shuffled back and forth on his feet for a moment before giving in and slowly removing his yellow shirt and bluejeans. He hesitated with his underwear, glancing up at Rick who had his back turned, laying the device he had in his hand on a small side table and fishing about in the cabinet underneath it for other supplies that he withdrew and set out for later use.

Biting the bullet, he took off his stretchy white boxer-briefs and added them to the pile of discarded clothes on the floor. His hands immediately went to cover himself, and he stood there, waiting nervously for Rick to tell him to do something else.

The old scientist finally turned back and nearly lost his breath at the adorable yet alluring little vision that stood a few feet away, blushing and averting his eyes, covering his privates to be as discreet as possible. Rick caught himself and coughed lightly into his hand, then indicated the exam bench. "H-Hop up, Morty."

The boy did as told and hoisted himself up onto the metal surface that was surprisingly warm. He sat with his legs dangling over the edge and his hands folded across his lap, shyly covering himself again.

Over the course of the next hour, Rick used a multitude of devices and scanners to help map out, in detail, Morty's anatomy and biology. He used the table to weigh the boy, finding he was a mere fifty-two pounds. Laying out flat, he was measured to be four foot two inches, a full foot shorter than the average Morty. His wingspan was measured just a tad over five feet for each wing and a full eleven and a half feet from wingtip to wingtip. A 3D X-Ray scan showed most of his major bones were indeed hollow, their walls rather thin as well.

Rick studied the way Morty's wings were connected to his back and the musculature that controlled them, how they were separate from his shoulders and arms but behaved quite similar to them. He asked the boy questions, some quite personal, and received stuttered but honest answers.

Then came the analysis of Morty's DNA structure and sequencing.

"Huh...looks like you're mostly human-like but your genetics are definitely avian... Looks like the people on Earth in your dimension evolved from birds instead of apes like mine," Rick observed, most interested. "Fortunately, it looks like you're mostly compatible with the humans from my dimension, which means most general medicines will work for you. Although, if you're injured, the healing guns and serums I have for myself aren't going to be very effective on you since your genetic makeup is avian-based." He reached to the side table and picked up the contraption that he had been building in the aboveground lab. It looked kind of like a gun with a needle on the front and a small, jar-shaped glass container attached on the back. "I need a DNA sample so I can formulate healing serums and supplies just for you, Morty."

The boy gulped, nervously eyeing the pointy needle on that scary-looking gun.

"You'll be fine, Morty," Rick assured, noting the kid's line of sight. "It—It'll just pinch a bit, no biggie."

Morty looked up at him. His blue eyes watched the old scientist smile at him reassuringly and even brandish a lighthearted thumbs up. A warm sense of relief filled his chest, and Morty smiled back lightly, giving a small nod. "O-Okay, Rick." He would trust the super scientist to know what he was doing. So far, he hadn't been let down, and he hoped that trend would keep on track.

With a gentle hand, Rick took Morty's small jawline in his fingers and encouraged the boy to tilt his head back and to the side, exposing his slender neck better. "You're doing great, Morty," he said softly, encouraging the teen's submissive behavior. "Just a little pinch now."

Morty squeezed his eyes tightly and tensed, mouth twisted into a worried grimace. The needle pierced his jugular and a hiss of compressed air sounded and puffed against his throat. That was more startling than the small jab of the needle itself, and Morty jumped in reaction, gasping.

Rick drew away, smiling, but kept his free hand on the boy's face, smoothing the palm against a nervously flushed cheek. "All done, kid."

"Huh?" Morty wondered, looking up at him with wide eyes. He reached a hand to rub at his neck, feeling normal. There wasn't even a residual soreness were the needle had pricked him, not even a drop of blood.

"You did great, Morty," Rick told him as he stroked a thumb over one frail cheekbone. He brought his needle gun up to view it, showing off the glass container on the back. It was now full of bright red blood. "With this much, I'll be able to create a six month supply of healing supplies for you."

"Wow, Rick. That—That's cool," Morty said, amazement leaking unashamedly into his voice. That, and relief. He was so grateful that nothing terribly painful happened, and that his trust in his new Rick was well-placed. Still...those horror stories from the Mortys on the Citadel colored his want to trust the old man implicitly...at least so far.

Rick slid his fingers away from Morty's soft cheek and carefully laid the needle gun back to the table beside the exam bench. "Say um...Morty..." he began, not looking the boy in the eye as he turned back to him, licking his thin lips. "I don't suppose...you-uh...think maybe..." Morty stared up at him curiously, tilting his head just a little. The sight made Rick bite into his lip instead of lick it. He cleared his throat, irritated with himself for not being able to articulate what he wanted. It was just...he was worried how his new partner would take the request.

"What is it, Rick?"

Clearing his throat again, the old scientist was able to get out, "A feather... C-Could I have a feather, Morty? To—To analyze! I-I-I was interested in the structure and—and its composition and—and I could use that to—to—to create a feather re-growth formula too and—" He was cut off by a little giggle that tickled his ears like a warm spring breeze.

"Sure, Rick." Morty curled one wing forward between them and spread the feathers out on display. "Which ones?"

Rick leaned back, surprise lifting his thick brow high. He didn't know what to expect when asking the boy for a feather, but he wasn't really anticipating him to be so eager to let him pluck one! "O-Oh, um...I-I only need one, Morty. A-Any one will do."

Morty eyed his own wing, scrutinizing the feathers and determining which one would make a good sample for Rick. He didn't mind giving the scientist one. Throughout any given day, he'd loose at least one or two, even more, depending on the circumstances. He wondered if the old man would take one that had already fallen out, since there were a couple in his bed that morning when he woke up, but he figured fresh would probably be better anyway. Making a decision, Morty reached in and took hold of a greater primary covert feather, one that was bigger than the smaller covert feathers around the top edge of his wing, but not one of his large, long primary flight feathers. It wouldn't be missed.

Rick winced when he heard the dull snapping noise of Morty plucking a feather, and felt bad when the boy's features twitched with what looked like pain. But then he was smiling again, and lifting a perfectly-shaped feather out for him to take. Rick held a hand out and the boy laid the eight inch plume on his palm. It felt like he was holding air, it was so light. The brown color was medium-toned, like a Morty's default hair color, but in the bright lights, he could also see hints of a dull, yellowy-brownish tint when he twisted the feather between his fingers. The thing was smooth and silky toward the end, but soft and semiplume toward the base. Damn thing was like a work of art...just like that little Morty, who tucked his wing back behind himself and blushed, keeping his hands crossed over his lap to keep his nudity hidden.

"Did it...hurt?" Rick asked suddenly, breaking the silence between them, staring at the shy vision sitting on the exam bench.

Morty shrugged nonchalantly. "I-It's okay. Just a—just a pinch." He winked and giggled again, relieving Rick's tension with the angelic sound.

"Th-Thanks, Morty."

"Sure, Rick."

For at least another half hour, Rick analyzed the blood he had collected from Morty and the feather. He catalogued everything on a holographic screen, projected at the side of the exam table, using his fingers to tap and scroll through menus and data and scribble down digital notes in his unique handwriting...well, unique to a Rick, anyway, since all Ricks wrote mostly the same.

During his studies, he came to a rather interesting conclusion about Morty's particular breed of "people". Several conclusions, in fact.

First off, the boy's wings—their color, their measurements, the feather type, everything—most resembled that of a common Nightingale bird from most general Earth dimensions. Secondly, from the genetics, he had a hunch about the boy's physical size in general, being so much smaller than a normal Morty.

"H-Hey, Morty," Rick asked, finally turning back to the boy after practically ignoring him for so long. The boy looked up at him, slow to wipe the bored expression off his face before Rick caught it, but the old man saw it nonetheless. Still, he chose to ignore it. Science first. "You remember how tall your mom was?"

Surprise lifted Morty's thin eyebrows. That was a question he wasn't prepared for...nor was his heart. "Um...n-no...sorry," he mumbled, turning his eyes toward the floor, downcast.

"How about your sister or dad? How tall were they?" Rick went on, needing an answer to help substantiate his hypothesis.

"I-I dunno, Rick. Taller than me," Morty mumbled with a disinterested shrug.

Rick hummed in thought, tapping a finger on the surface of the exam bench. Perhaps he was being too direct, too cold with his questions. It seemed Morty was turning off to him, not wanting to help out as eagerly. It was probably due to the memories of his family that Rick was asking him to dredge up, but it really couldn't be helped. He needed a point of reference to establish if his thoughts on Morty's species of avian-based humans were correct.

"Okay, Morty," he said softly, approaching him directly and standing in front of the small winged boy, sitting on the exam table. "I-I know this might be difficult for you to th-think about, but...it'll help me learn more about you." And satisfy his own curiosity...but he didn't need to say that. "In comparison to me...h-how tall was your Rick?"

Morty stared up at him, eyes going distant and glassy. For a long while, he sat there, staring as though not seeing Rick standing there in front of him, but looking right through him. When that moment passed, he blinked and looked up at him again, worrying his lips between his teeth as though nervous. With a swallow, he focused on sliding down off the table, standing in front of Rick and tilting his head far back in order to look up at him.

Rick watched the little winged Morty stare up at him with shiny eyes, knowing he must be close to tears, but not letting them gather enough to fall. Then the boy shut those glassy windows to his soul and lifted his arms upward. He watched in wonder as Morty cupped at the thin air in front of Rick's upper chest as though cupping someone's face. The boy's hands moved with a sureness Rick had yet to see in them, stroking the invisible face and tracing around a head that was not there.

He ended up on his tip-toes, one hand braced against the old scientist's teal-clad chest, and the other hand lying flat on the air, fingers pointing at the bottom of Rick's chin.

Morty opened his eyes and stared up at him, the blue orbs still shiny and wet. "A...About...here..." he mumbled, immediately chewing on his lips again. He drew away and fell back onto the flats of his feet, pulling the hand he'd held the old man's chest with close to his own, feeling the residual heat still warming his skin.

Rick stared down at him, swallowing, pale grey eyes locked to his little form.

Morty blushed and covered himself again quickly, noticing the old man's gaze. He wasn't staring at the kid's junk, but his eyes were still lingering on his face and making him feel incredibly self-conscious.

Clearing his throat loudly, Rick turned suddenly and danced his fingers across the holo-screen next to the table. A blue diagram of his own body appeared and a yellow line severed his head at the bottom of the chin. More tapping, and another blue diagram of a Rick appeared overlaid on top of his, but proportionately shorter, the top of the head coming to stop at the yellow line under the chin. Rick swiped his hands over the screen, parting them away from each other, and the two Rick diagrams separated to float side-by-side, displaying hight measurements and stats beside each.

"Interesting..." Rick mumbled, studying the results. "If this is correct, then your Rick would have been about a foot shorter than me, just like you're a foot shorter than an average Morty...that's about a twenty percent difference in size. So if that's the case, generally speaking, it would seem the population of Earth in your dimension is proportionately twenty percent smaller than in most other dimensions. I-It would certainly make sense as well, if everyone was avian-based and could fly, they would need to be smaller and lighter in order to be able to feasibly get off the ground..." He hummed to himself and made some more calculations that only made sense to himself, fingers flying over the holo-screen with intense focus.

Perhaps he could even portal over to Morty's home dimension just to see for himself how small the people were. He felt eager to do so, in fact, his yearning to see smaller avian-based humans calling back to his fondness of small animals. What would it be like to be surrounded by a crowd of small winged people, all staring up at him in wonder, he being the only person without wings and nearly giant in comparison to them? Well, a foot difference in hight wasn't a whole lot, but as a Rick, with a Rick's impressive hight, he more than likely **would** tower over much of the population.

"R...Rick?" a small voice mumbled behind him.

The scientist turned and looked down at the diminutive winged teen, still standing there, still naked, and still trying to be discreet about it.

"Um...a-are you done w-with my exam yet, Rick? C...Can I get dressed yet?" Morty asked, cheeks just a little dusted pink. His lidded blue eyes betrayed not only disinterest, but also some sadness. His wings were also drooping a lot more than his normal posture.

"Oh, uh...sh-sure, Morty. Sorry, yeah. I-I think this is good for now. I got the most important stuff documented, and I can get a lot of use out of the samples I took. You're good, Morty. Go ahead and get dressed. You can go upstairs and watch some TV if you want. Play some games or something."

Morty turned his gaze up to Rick and gave him an awkward smile that twisted up when he went to nibble at his lips nervously. "Um...c-can I go fly, Rick?"

The old man blinked at him for a moment before realizing what he was being asked. His eyes widened, and he nodded. "Sh-Sure, Morty! Yeah, go for it! Here," he offered, unlatching his watch and handing it over to Morty as he had a couple days ago. "Try to stay away from populated areas. We don't need people wandering around my place looking for the flying boy they caught sight of, ya know? The security system is active, and it won't end pretty."

Morty giggled and took the watch with one hand, then used his wings to shield his nudity from Rick's vision while he clipped it on. "I will. Thanks, Rick." Using his elongated toes, he nimbly picked up his discarded clothes off the floor and passed them up to his hands, dressing within the curtain of his folded wings. It took only a moment, then he was pulling his yellow shirt over his head and sliding his wings out through the stretchy holes in the back.

"Have fun, Morty," Rick told him sincerely. "Be back by dinner-time, okay?"

"O-Okay, Rick!" Morty piped, beaming a grin up at him. His somber mood seemed to have dissolved completely at the prospect of flying, and Rick made a mental note of that.

Rick patted Morty's tufty head and shooed him along, so happy to have the boy living with him now, but also eager to get to work. He finally felt he had a purpose, something to strive toward, something to work on that had real meaning, and he would be eternally grateful to that sweet little Morty for gifting that to him simply with his presence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technical stuff! Yay! XD
> 
> Also, I did a little sketch of Morty's loft bed that Rick made for him. If you're interested, you can check it out here: [Morty's Loft Bed](https://i.postimg.cc/C5RC2FFt/Morty-s-Loft-Bed-1000.png) Enjoy the little Christmas penguin again because I can't seem to use anything other than themed notepads to sketch stuff for this story. LOL


	8. Acclimating Morty-pack

Over the course of a month, Morty slowly grew more and more used to his new Rick, and vice versa. They went out on a handful of adventures together—simple things, just to gather supplies for Rick's experiments or inventions.

Morty learned that that particular Rick was a bit of a hoarder in terms of supplies. The old man hated to be running low on something, whether he planned on using it soon or years down the line. Case in point, the fibers for the material that he had made Morty's new clothes from. That stuff only came from one particular flower on one particular planet that only bloomed every few years. And Rick had had a lot of it.

"Who knows when I'll need something, Morty," Rick had said one afternoon as he was riffling through a cabinet, looking for an item for a project he was working on. "I like to make sure I'm well-stocked at all times, especially in stuff that's harder to come by. Because if I don't have it, that's when I'll realize I need it. And I hate rushing out for shit when what I'm working on is time-sensitive. I hate rushing things, Morty. It sucks the joy out of the creative process. It's just always best to be prepared."

Morty also learned that his new Rick was generally more laid-back than a lot of Ricks that loved to live life on the edge and race around doing dangerous stunts in order to feel the thrill...in order to feel **anything**. He was basically "retired" as it were, spending much of his time at home, just tinkering in the lab to pass the time and make a few more bucks on the side.

The old scientist certainly wasn't lacking in the money department either, from what Morty learned. He had created a few blockbuster inventions that would have him swimming in cash for the rest of his life. One of them being the food replicator, like the one in his kitchen.

Often, Morty would sit in the lab and just watch Rick work, occasionally getting him a requested tool or a refreshment from the kitchen. He would wonder, when it was quiet except for the little clinks and clanks of Rick's tinkering, was that what it was like before he had been adopted by that scientist? Just an old man, sitting in his lab, quietly fiddling with scraps in order to pass the time, only to continue to do so day after day? It seemed like such a lonely existence to Morty, so sad and depressing.

He wondered, since Rick never had a Morty, did he not know what to do or say to him now that the boy was living there? There did seem to be a kind of quiet tension in the air around Rick when they sat in the lab tinkering around or milled about the kitchen at mealtimes or when they sat in the living room to watch some TV. It was a nervous sort of unease that had the atmosphere buzzing around them every time they occupied the same space. It would make sense, Morty had figured, despite wanting to adopt him and wanting his company and assistance on adventures...that Rick may have felt awkward in his presence, simply because he had no experience with Mortys and didn't know what to say to the kid.

And so, one day, a couple weeks after moving in with the old scientist, Morty decided he would have to break the ice himself. So he stood that much closer to Rick. He began talking to him much more than simple "okay"s and "sure, Rick"s. They started holding conversations that spanned from what Rick was working on to other things of mutual interest like TV shows or music or activities.

And Rick was smiling more. He was laughing more. And he would gently pet along Morty's downy hair just a little more often than "rarely", and that had Morty feeling warm and happy himself.

He so loved the sheer size of Rick's hands, how they were so strong-looking, but their touch was so gentle, almost tickling with how lightly the old man would stroke Morty's hair. If there was one thing he could say that he loved about his new Rick, it would definitely be his hands. Although...Morty had to admit...it would probably be very easy to love more than just Rick's hands...if he just allowed himself to.

One day, not long after their new dynamic of hanging out and talking a lot more developed, Rick took Morty on another gathering adventure. That time, it was to a jungle-like planet with a name that Morty could not pronounce, so he hadn't even bothered trying to remember it. It just looked green. Very, very green. Green Planet.

They walked far from where Rick parked his space car, searching out a particular variety of tree that produced a sap with incredible healing properties. When applied directly, it would heal small cuts and even bruising, but when refined and combined with a few other additives, it could heal fatal wounds in just a few moments.

Rick already had a good amount in his supply cabinet, but he wanted more, just in case, since he had used some to create a case full of healing serums for Morty. It was a good time of year to gather it as well, since the warmth of the planet's two suns combined with the rainy season that just passed a few days ago, the sap would be very thin and abundant. It would be easy to tap the trees and collect a large amount of the stuff in a very short time.

They trudged through the thick undergrowth of the jungle, the muggy heat making them sweat profusely, and that in turn luring little bugs to buzz in their ears and around their faces. Rick used the laser on his watch to slice through the foliage like carving up butter with a hot knife, keeping their path clear. The wide, fibrous leaves that the old man sliced down made a general carpet for them to walk across, and Morty made sure to stay on top of them, watching where he was stepping. He didn't want to impale his bare feet on anything in that strange jungle. He would hate for Rick to have to use that sap immediately.

Morty wished he could fly, but the trees were too compact to allow him room to glide, so he was grounded for the time being, much to his dismay. He was getting nervous with the strange sounds emanating from the darkness of the jungle just beyond his line of sight. Being unable to spring up and take flight had him shivering despite the humid heat that had him sweating in rivulets.

"Ah, finally!" Rick crowed, slicing a few more bushes down and clearing a path into a thick grove of twisty-looking grey-barked trees that stood what seemed a mile high. He swung the rucksack he'd been carrying off his back and knelt at the base of one of the trees, digging through it for the tools to tap the wood for that rich sap.

As he worked and clattered around, Morty stood a few paces behind him, hugging his arms across his chest, wings tucked tightly against his back, and glancing this way and that. Those creepy sounds seemed closer than before—clicking and growly-type noises that made his skin crawl. The cold, clenching fist of fear gripped his fluttering heart, and Morty trembled on wobbly knees.

Huffing and hissing to his right.

Snuffles and grunts to his left.

Behind him, a screeching squawk and a startling rustle of leaves.

He twisted this way and that, following every sound his sensitive ears picked up, wide eyes scanning his surroundings, his wings tucked tightly and shivering. The jungle was closing in on him, becoming darker and looming over his tiny frame, the trees groaning as vines coiled around them like venomous snakes.

So many predators...

Morty's heart palpitated hard against his hollow breastbone, his breaths coming short and flighty. His large round eyes darted every which way, pupils dilating.

So many predators...and he was only a little bird...easy prey...

A snapping twig had the boy reacting on blind impulse, and Morty turned toward where he instinctually knew he could find protection and ran for it.

Rick cheerily hammered a metal tap into one of the twisty trees he had been looking for. After attaching a plastic hose to it that connected into a plastic bag-like container, he twisted the tap open. Golden liquid that shimmered with iridescence immediately drizzled down through the tube and collected in the container. The more shiny golden sap it collected, the more the vessel slowly inflated, larger and larger.

Rick chuckled to himself, grinning as the bag filled at a slow but steady pace. "Yeah, gonna have plenty of this shit for a long ti—OOUFF!" he huffed, stumbling forward a step when something collided with his back suddenly. A cold panic raced through his limbs at not knowing what was attacking him and scrambling up his body. He spun half around to look over his shoulder, arms lifting and hands curling into claws, ready to reach back and grab hold of whatever it was and throw it off. He was met with huge round eyes, the pupils dilated so wide, the irises were mere thin blue rings around black holes.

Rick froze. "M-Morty?"

The boy stared up at him from over his shoulder, his little hands clinging to Rick's shoulders and his small feet and diminutive claws digging into the old man's hips. The scientist could feel Morty's hyperventilating breaths rapidly heaving his small chest against his back, and even felt the boy's heartbeat fluttering in a panic. Morty was flapping his wings haphazardly for balance, desperately trying to cling tighter and get closer to what he perceived as safety. In doing so, he only managed to make Rick stumble with the oddly shifting distribution of weight and shield his head from the feathers smacking into it.

"Morty! M-Morty, chill out!" he yelled, widening his stance and bending over slightly to stay on his feet.

Morty whimpered loudly and buried his face between the old man's shoulder blades, clinging to his back with a death grip despite how much his entire body was shaking. He stopped struggling and simply held on, tucking his wings tightly against his back again.

"Morty..." Rick hummed softly, worried. "Morty, wh-what's wrong?" He reached back over his shoulder and very gently alighted his fingers to the boy's feathery hair, noting that it was excessively puffed up and a bit messy. "Hey...hey..." he cooed, feeling the kid's little chest and heart moving rapidly against his spine. "What's got you all worked up, buddy?"

As soon as that familiar hand settled in his hair, Morty whined and surged up against it, rubbing his own head and face into the weathered palm and long, slightly calloused fingers. He was like a cat, Rick observed in that moment, or some small animal, dying for some modicum of affection and comfort.

"Morty..." he hummed softly, speaking the name just to speak it, hoping the sound of his voice would be enough to help calm the boy down a little. "Hey, what's wrong?"

Wide eyes on a little face looked up at him from over his shoulder. Morty panted and huffed and desperately tried to tuck his body tighter against Rick's, even though they were practically molded together at that point. " _Puh-Puh-Predators...R-Rick..._ " he managed to eke out, trembling like a little bird under the palm of Rick's hand. "Th-They're gu-gonna eat me!" He gulped and gasped for a hyperventilated breath. " _S-S-Scared, Rick...mm...mm'so s-scared..._ " he whined, lowering his voice back down to a whisper and hiding his face against the old man's back again.

Frowning, Rick turned forward and pulled out a little device from inside his lab coat, using it to scan the area surrounding them. Nothing of significance was reported back to him; there were no large creatures in the area save for themselves—just a few smaller animals scattered around their position, no bigger than a small dog. Returning the device to his pocket, Rick peeked over his shoulder again and lifted a hand back to stroke Morty's hair some more.

"Huh...your species must still have some predator/prey instincts ingrained in you. But don't worry, kid. There's nothing out there that's gonna get you. I made sure of it, okay? You're safe here with me." He scraped his nails very lightly along the boy's scalp and stroked his fingers along his feathery hair, smoothing it back down only for it to puff up again. It was so cute to Rick, and he couldn't help smirking despite how terrified the kid seemed to be. "It's okay, Morty. I'll protect you, okay? I'm here," he reassured a little more.

Morty looked up at him again, sniffling and big round eyes watering. "Can I st-stay here with you, Rick?... C-Can I please?"

The request confused the old man, and he smiled awkwardly. "Um...ar-aren't you already, Morty?"

The little winged teen shook his head and tucked his face into the back of the scientist's neck, nosing through the short strands of damp, silvery-blue hair there. "H-Here...right here... C-Can I stay? Please, Rick? Un-Until you're d-done?"

Everything clear now, Rick swallowed and chewed on his lower lip, staring straight ahead at the tapped tree. A nervous fluttering twisted in his belly, but he pushed it down and took a deep, steadying breath. "Sh-Sure, Morty. Yeah...ss...s'cool, dawg." He shrugged, trying to feign nonchalance, even though he was sure Morty could feel how tensed his muscles were.

The boy was only fifty-two pounds, and with him clinging to his back the way he was, it just felt like a heavy backpack. Rick tested his mobility, kneeling down to check the container of golden sap, then standing up again when all was well. With the enhancements he had made to his body years ago, he could easily cart around Morty's light weight with hardly any trouble. And Morty seemed to be quite capable of holding on as well. His hands were small, but his grasp was strong. And his little elongated toes with slightly hooked nails helped to keep a steady grip on Rick's hips. The cute little brat felt like a little koala bear, clinging to his back.

They continued the rest of the adventure that way, Rick wearing a little winged Morty backpack while he tapped several more trees and collected their iridescent golden sap.

"This stuff'll be super helpful for healing serums, Morty," Rick told him as he worked in the muggy heat of the jungle. "Doesn't go bad either. I can store it forever, and it'll be still be good. Shit t-tastes pretty good too, check it out." He dabbed a small bit of the golden fluid still dripping out of the first tree after he'd removed the tap from it, gathering it onto his index finger. "Here, Morty. Try some. Bonus, if you—if you got anything wrong with you right now, any little cuts or even an upset stomach, this shit'll clear it right up. Here." He held his finger over his shoulder, peering back in expectance.

Morty stared at the shimmery golden liquid coating Rick's finger curiously, then eyed the old scientist with a nervous little swallow. Obediently, he leaned forward and opened his mouth. He could trust that Rick. He had to. He felt safe with him. The old man even allowed Morty to ride his back for most of the adventure just to placate him. He really could trust his new Rick.

A small, delicate tongue eased out of his open mouth and slid along the pad of Rick's long finger, drawing it into wet warmth, little pink lips closing around it.

Rick stared, eyes pulling wide at the vision that was his Morty, sucking delicately at his finger. He swallowed heavily, his breathing becoming shallow at the feel of a hot tongue sliding over his digit and soft lips wrapped around it.

Shit, he hadn't thought that one through.

It didn't help when Morty's round eyes widened in surprise, the blue irises looking like a bright summer sky. The teen pulled back slowly, licking his lips when Rick's finger emerged from between them, cleaned but wet with saliva. "Mm! Y-Yeah, Rick, it's really good! K-Kinda tastes like caramel."

Rick immediately had thoughts of creating healing candies for Morty to suck on, just so he could place one on his little tongue and watch it melt in his mouth. That was definitely on his list of things to do now. Damn, that boy was a treasure trove of ideas! It didn't matter if it was only Rick's pervy desire to see things in Morty's mouth suddenly. The idea was good, damn it!

"Y-Yeah...it's good shit, all right..." Rick mumbled, still staring at Morty's lips and watching him lick that cute little tongue over them. They looked wet and delicious...probably tasted like the sap now too...

Rick turned forward again and cleared his throat loudly. "O-Okay, Morty. Time to pack up and head out. C-Can I get you to give me a hand now?"

Feeling much more at ease now that he'd practically basked in Rick's physical presence for a while, Morty nodded and hopped down from the old man's back. He helped as best he could, following Rick's directions, and only spilled a small bit of sap when he undid one of the tubes from the container first, instead of the tap on the tree first.

Rick shot a portal onto the the side of one tree, then carefully carted the heavy, bag-like containers through, taking several trips to get them all. He reemerged from the portal when he was finished, and smiled down at his little winged Morty, noticing he was looking a bit nervous again without Rick being close for the last few minutes. He bent and picked up his rucksack and tossed it through the portal as well, then watched as the swirling green iris closed.

"Okay, Morty. Let's get going. We gotta get back to the car before nightfall. We can stop somewhere good to eat for dinner on the way home too. Kinda why I drove in the first place." He turned and waved for the boy to follow, immediately leading the way.

Little footsteps rustled quickly behind him, and Rick smirked knowingly. He was prepared that time when Morty leapt onto his back and clung tightly, turning himself into a little winged backpack again, gripping at his shoulders and hips with his hands and feet.

"R-Rick..." he whined pitiably, burying his face between the old man's shoulder blades. "C-Can I...?"

Rick chuckled warmly and reached a hand back to pet tenderly along Morty's fluffy hair. "Never said you couldn't, kid."

Morty cooed happily and snuggled his head further under Rick's hand, loving those gentle touches.

That was the beginning of a habit—a habit for Morty to hop up and cling to Rick's back and ride it while the old man walked around. It became their thing without even being said. Rick would start walking toward a destination, and Morty would hop on his back and ride along if he didn't feel like flying or the conditions wouldn't allow for it.

It was something unique to just them, and they both enjoyed it immensely without ever calling attention to it.

Morty never even rode his original Rick's back. Their thing had been to fly together. But Rick S-322 couldn't fly. Though, where he lacked in one department, he more than made up for in others. He was a normal-sized Rick, which was big compared to Morty's original, and huge compared to the boy himself. In being bigger, with solid bones and strong muscles, Rick could easily carry Morty's weight around and for long periods of time too. His proportional diminutive body fit like a glove against the old scientist's back. His elongated toes and slightly hooked nails would cling to Rick's slender hips. His thin legs would tuck up along the old man's sides, and he would either grip Rick's shoulders in his hands or wrap his arms around his neck and slump over his shoulder slightly while they walked.

It was comfortable, and it was tender, and it made them both happy with the closeness they shared in those moments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been waiting and waiting to finally get Morty to ride on Rick's back! LOL Ever since I thought up these two, I've wanted to have Morty riding around on Rick because I thought it would be the cutest thing ever. I hope you agree! Thank you for reading so far, and I hope you return for more chapters in the future! <3


	9. The Inevitable Classic Rick and Morty Adventure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is undeniably long... I just hope that's not a bother to anyone. -_-;

"Woo! Adventure day!" Morty crowed, throwing his hands into the air as he and Rick exited the house and headed toward the scientist's AMC Pacer converted space car parked out front. "I can't wait to get back out into space again, Rick," he enthused as he popped open the gull-wing door on the passenger side and hopped in.

Chuckling, Rick climbed into the driver's seat and pulled his own door down to close, jingling the keys into the ignition on the steering column. "That so, Morty?"

"Yeah, Rick. I love cruising through the stars, ya know? Space is so awesome!" he said cheerily while buckling in.

With a hum, the old scientist turned over the ultra advanced engine of his car, and it too hummed as it came to life. "Well, I hate to burst your bubble, kid, but we're not going into 'space' space this time around."

"Awww!" Morty whined, looking over at him with a serious pout, his shoulders and wings sagging. "But—But we haven't gone into space for at least two weeks, Rick. I thought that's why we were taking the car this time."

Rick winced against that heartbroken expression. "I know, I know, Morty. Sorry, buddy. We **are** going to a different planet, but we have to go to another dimension to get to it." He pulled out his portal gun from inside his lab coat and turned the dark grey button near the handle, adjusting the coordinates.

"In the car?" Morty asked, frowning in confusion at the older man.

"Yep," Rick piped, leaning forward and pressing a little button along the dash near the bottom center. A small smooth plate lifted outward and slid back inside the dash, revealing a rectangular port. Passing the portal gun to his right hand, Rick plugged the front end of it into that port, the white metal fitting in perfectly and holding the gun securely in place. "We're taking the whole car with us this time, Morty. See, the planet we're going to doesn't exist in this dimension, so we gotta go to one where it does. But even once we get there, we gotta fly around for a bit and scan the surface until we can find an entrance into the extensive cave systems that snake all though the planet."

"What are we looking for this time, Rick?" the boy asked, his interest sparked once again. He watched his elder reveal another instrument panel he hadn't known was part of the space car and type onto the keypad there. It was only a guess, but he figured that the old man was programming the car to use the portal gun, but he was usually wrong when it came to figuring out what Rick was doing.

"We need to find a super rare phosphorescent blue lichen that grows exclusively in the cave system of that planet, Morty. It's incredibly valuable and can be used for a wide variety of science, and I need to get my hands on it, Morty," Rick said determinedly, gripping a hand into a fist. "Gotta stock up on it 'cause I don't have any yet, and I wanna make sure I have plenty to use before needing to go back and get more."

Giggling, Morty leaned back in the seat and shuffled his long toes through the short cream-colored carpeting on the floor. "You do like to hoard supplies, Rick. Guess I can't fault you for doing it every time you do."

"Pff shut—shut up, Morty. Little...little snot..." Rick groused, barely offended.

Morty only giggled more in response to the lame-duck insult, used to being called much worse, and knowing that the old man didn't think ill of him at all, especially by the way the guy chuckled and smirked at him.

Rick piloted the car up into the air and sailed them high into the atmosphere of the Earth, making sure there was plenty of space between them and the ground before pressing the dark grey button on the portal gun and firing a large portal in front of the vehicle. They sailed through and emerged on the other side, high in the stratosphere of a strange world that was dull and cold-looking. Much of the surface of the planet was nothing but craggy rock formations. There was no vegetation to speak of, not even lakes or oceans of water, yet there was a stormy atmosphere that surrounded the world, lightning illuminating different pockets of swirling clouds with flashes of intermittent light.

Angling the car downward, Rick took them closer the the surface, sailing a few miles above. He propped a new device that he pulled out of his lab coat up on top of the dash and activated it, watching the little screen provide a digital visual representation of the surface below. They flew around for probably ten minutes before the little device blipped and alerted Rick of an entrance to a deep cave system nearby.

"Yeah, there we go," he piped happily, sailing downward and bringing them to a gentle landing on the dull, dark grey, rocky ground. "C'mon, Morty," he said, exiting the vehicle.

Obeying, Morty got out too and stepped around to the back of the car to where Rick was already digging through the opened hatchback. He emerged holding a brown leather belt, the strap thick and sturdy, with eight empty glass jars connected to it by thick metal loops around the screw caps.

"Here, Morty," Rick bid him, turning to the kid and leaning down.

Heeding the call, Morty stepped up to him and lifted his arms and held his wings out while the old man strapped the belt around his small waist, buckling it securely.

"We'll put the lichens in these jars," Rick explained as he tucked the prong of the buckle through one of the many holes punched through the center of the thick strap then cinched the leather through several metal loops to secure it in place. "It shouldn't be too heavy for you to carry. Gonna need you to help pull some weight on this adventure, Morty."

The boy smiled up at him as Rick gave the leather a little tug, running his fingers underneath it a few inches to make sure it wasn't too tight around the teen's waist. "No—No problem, Rick. It's not that heavy at all. Don't worry, 'cause I'm super strong!" he announced proudly. He lifted his arms and flexed his meager little muscles, making them hardly stand out on his skinny biceps.

Rick chuckled and stroked along his feathery head. "Oo damn, Morty. Don't wanna get on your bad side then, do I? You'll fuck me up, won't you!"

They both laughed, and Rick closed up the hatchback before they turned and finally entered the yawning mouth of the cave.

Cautiously, they walked forward through the oppressive darkness of the rocky corridors and chambers, Rick carrying a flashlight and shining it out ahead of their path. Morty's glass jars clinked softly together as he walked a pace or two behind the elder, clanking louder every time his feet stumbled. The ground of the cave system was a bit unstable and littered with dust and gravel. Sharp little pebbles poked at his soles, and each step wasn't exactly pleasant.

"Hop up, Morty. This floor must be shitty on your bare feet," Rick suggested, stopping with his back turned to the boy and waving his free hand toward himself.

Gladly, Morty jumped up and clung to the scientist's back, and together they walked on, deep into the dry, earthen-smelling cave system.

A small rumbling tremor shook them suddenly, and they stopped in their tracks. Rick waited a moment to see if another quake was inbound or if anything had become unstable, but nothing followed the random rumble, and so he moved along.

For another forty minutes, they wandered the dark caves and tunnels, searching for that elusive lichen, but so far turning up bupkis. It was really kind of annoying, and Morty sighed and slumped over his large Rick's shoulder, bored and getting tired of all the uneventful wandering.

"Are we there yet, Rick? This adventure's kinda lame," he whined, hanging his head and arms over the old man's shoulder, appearing to be a Morty-shaped sack of potatoes.

"Humph!" Rick grunted in annoyance. "Just be grateful we're on an adventure at all, Morty. You could be home right now, passing me six different varieties of screwdrivers while I make a sign that when lit up reads: 'Shut the hell up and quit complaining, Morty'."

That had been the single most mean thing Rick had ever said to him since they met, and for as tame as it actually was, that was really saying something. Morty slid back into his normal posture, holding around the man's shoulders, and laid his chin on his arm, mouth near the scientist's ear.

"S-Sorry, Rick," he mumbled, downcast. He really had been yelled at in a much, much harsher manner by Ricks in the past, especially his original, but his kindhearted Rick had never sharpened his tongue on him as of yet. It actually kind of stung, even though it really shouldn't have. His Rick really was a Rick, after all, and that little snipe served as a harsh reminder.

They came to a halt and Rick inhaled slowly, then sighed it out deeply, his frame sagging bit by bit as the air left his lungs. He looked back over his shoulder, and Morty saw the kindness in that man's eyes that he had come to know and expect to find there.

"Sorry, Morty. I...I didn't mean it like that," he apologized, his gravely voice low and echoing slightly off the walls of the tunnel. "I'm trying to find that lichen, but it's not exactly easy..."

The boy perked up a little at that and gave the old man a soft smile. "Don't sweat it, Rick. I-I've heard much worse before," he admitted.

"Mm..." Rick hummed, turning forward and resuming their trek through the caves.

A few minutes passed in quiet save for the crunch and scuffs of the scientist's black shoes on the loose gravel of the cave floor.

"Do you really think the adventures I take you on are lame?"

The question came so out of the blue, that at first, Morty hadn't registered that Rick had asked it. He lifted his head away from laying along the old man's shoulder and widened his eyes at the back of his silvery-blue head.

"R-Rick...I..." he hesitated, unsure how to answer.

"Be honest, Morty," Rick requested, continuing to stalk forward through the tunnel, shining his light here and there to search as well as to make sure he wouldn't trip or fall down a random hole in the floor.

In that moment, Morty realized something. Not only did Rick utter words that stung...but Morty himself had probably wounded his new Rick just as much with his careless comment. The scientist wasn't being mean just to be mean, as most Ricks were apt to do...he was probably being defensive because...because Morty had hurt his feelings.

The winged boy shook his head, even though his older partner couldn't see it. "No, Rick, I don't think they're lame at all. I mean, well...sometimes there's not much for me to do, ya know? And I'm a teenager, Rick. I got lots'a pent up energy to expend, ya know? So...so when not much is happening...I...I-I mean, well..."

"You get bored and think the adventure is lame," Rick finished for him, voice rather passive.

"Th-That's um...I mean, no, I—"

"Don't try to sugar coat it, kid; I get it," he grumbled, turning and heading down a different path, hoping to have more luck in that direction. "Sorry...ya know...for...for being a lame Rick," he sighed, his pace slowing a bit. "I get it that my simple gathering adventures aren't all that exciting to a Morty. I don't exactly have the right kind of devil-may-care attitude that most Ricks that tend to go on more high-octane adventures have. And...well...not having a Morty of my own for all this time...I don't exactly know what kind of adventures appeal to you guys," he admitted begrudgingly. "I just...know what I need...so I go get it...and it's usually not really that hard to do... I'm a more laid-back kinda Rick, so I don't exactly go out looking for trouble or ways to cheat or scam people just to do it. I figure, why make enemies when allies are so much more willing to give you free shit? Sorry if that seems lame to you, kid."

Morty shook his head, even though the old man still couldn't see it. Leaning forward, he curled his arms around Rick's shoulders and hugged him firmly, nuzzling his cheek against the side of his head. The old man's wiry hair tickled at his face, but it was a tender, intimate sort of feeling. "You're not a lame Rick at all, Rick," he began, truly enjoying being carted along on the guy's back. "You're just different from the mainstream Ricks, that's all. There's nothing wrong with that. I-I really like you the way you are, Rick. You're kind and you're gentle," he hummed sweetly, tucking his head firmly alongside his partner's, "and I love that about you."

Rick cleared his throat quietly, stumbling over a slightly larger rock in his path.

"I don't **really** think your adventures are lame, Rick. Because it doesn't matter what we do, or where we go, it's the fact that it's you and me together that makes it an adventure. Even if it's just me and you sitting on the couch and watching interdimensional cable, that's still an exciting Rick and Morty adventure to me, Rick."

The old scientist exhaled deeply, his pace slowing once again.

"I really am sorry I said the adventure was lame, Rick. That—That was a shit choice of words, and I didn't really mean it," Morty apologized formally. "I just get bored when things get slow, that's all. That's a...well...I guess that's a typical Morty thing, ya know? It's nothing on you, Rick."

Rick snorted and picked up his pace again, a slight bounce to his step suddenly. "Mm...even though I did a lot of research before adopting you, I guess there's still more I need to learn about Mortys."

Morty giggled and hugged his Rick warmly, squishing his face into the old man's cheek with a firm nuzzle. "Don't worry, Rick. I-I'll teach you whatever you wanna know. I'll be your Morty 101 professor."

Laughing, the scientist reached his free hand back and scratched his fingers tenderly through the boy's downy hair. "Sounds good, kiddo. I'll bring a number two pencil and a notepad to class."

Their laughter echoed sweetly off the hollow halls and chambers of the cave system they still traversed.

Another half hour later, and in the midst of Morty explaining to Rick the fundamentals of a Morty's ability to spot a hot redhead from a mile away, they came upon a soft blue glow that emanated in the distance down a cross tunnel they happened to be passing.

Rick halted in his tracks and inhaled in a light gasp, then turned and trotted down the rocky hall until they emerged into an amorphous sort of antechamber. The entire room was brightly lit by that pale blue light, radiated by the lichens that grew in great abundance all over nearly every lumpy surface of rock.

"Whoa..." Morty hummed absently, gazing about the room in wonder. "So pretty, Rick..."

The old man looked over his shoulder and smirked at the boy. "Worth the lame parts of the adventure, Morty?" he asked teasingly with a wink.

Turning his gaze to Rick, the boy was held captive for a moment by that soft blue glow highlighting the old man's icy eyes and wild hair...and handsome smile. He swallowed and felt his face heating up as he forced his eyes to avert before it was too obvious he was staring. "Totally worth it, Rick," he admitted shyly.

The old man chuckled and faced forward again, patting at the boy's leg curled up along his side. "These lichens are really useful, Morty. I can get a lot of different shit outta them for my science stuff. Here, help me scrape it off the walls."

Hopping down, Morty stood still as Rick turned to him and pulled a thin, flat putty knife out of his lab coat and handed it to him. He unscrewed one of the jars off the belt and pulled another knife out of his coat before heading over to the wall. Carefully, he dug the flat dull blade under the lichens and pushed it flush against the rocky surface, separating the crusty, glowing blue plants from the rock. He held the jar close to catch the pieces as they crumbled and peeled away. "Just like this, Morty," he instructed.

The boy nodded, watching, and then unscrewed his own jar from the belt and headed over to another part of the wall, going about copying Rick's actions.

Soon, they had all eight clear glass jars packed full of glowing blue lichens, and they shone brightly around Morty's small waist like fairy lanterns.

Rick knelt in front of the kid and spun the last jar into the stationary lid clamped to the leather belt, turning it tightly to make sure it was secure.

Giggling, Morty swung his hips back and forth a little, clinking the glasses together. "It's really pretty, Rick."

The old man's eyes turned up to him, taking in the boy highlighted by mellow pale blue light, enhancing every soft feature and attractive line of his smaller body. "Yeah...sure is," he mumbled quietly. He reached up and, very lightly, stroked his hand along Morty's down hair and curled his fingers carefully into the feathery strands. He wanted to keep talking, to thank the boy for his help, for his company, for simply breathing, but he felt frozen in front of such a vision. Holding the boy's head for a moment, Rick stared at his face just long enough for Morty to actually notice that time.

A darker hue colored the boy's cheeks, and he shied his shoulders up higher, averting his gaze. Oh, damn, that old man knew how to reflect that pretty blue light off of his handsome features. And that gaze that he held on Morty's face was starting to really make his belly twist up with a heat that he hadn't felt in a long time.

Entirely taken in by the sight of him, Rick was bewitched by the beautiful vision. That rosy color on his cheeks, his shy demeanor, the way the pale blue light from the lichen highlighted his alluring body and feathery wings. Rick...couldn't help himself...not with that angel standing before him...

Very lightly, the old scientist tugged the boy closer with the hand behind his head. "M-Morty..." he mumbled softly, unsure, his tone turning more into a question than a bid for the boy to acknowledge him.

Morty gazed into Rick's eyes, seeing the icy grey orbs scanning his own, like trying to read his mind. It felt like the man was boring holes into his soul and trying to read what was written inside his heart. And that heart skipped a beat, watching the scientist swallow and part his lips, the feel of his fingers in the teen's feathered hair making him shiver and bite his lip. He quivered and shook, harder and harder, until he realized that it wasn't he himself trembling, rather, it was the ground beneath his feet.

Gasping, Morty jerked and withdrew a few steps, turning to look around the bright antechamber. Rick stood and turned as well, the spell broken when he realized what was happening. The entire room was rumbling deeply, vibrating through their guts, and some small loose rocks tumbled down from the ceiling in dusty clumps.

"Shit, it's a quake!" Rick shouted, backing toward the second mouth of the antechamber, off to the side of the one they had entered from. "Morty, stay close!"

The frightened teen trotted the few feet to his side, and Rick cupped his hand between the boy's shoulder blades and tucked him against his hip, keeping him close as they both backed toward the hallway.

The rumbling became a roar, and their only direct means of exit was buried in a cascade of tumbling rocks, dust pouring out of the opening like a thick, rolling wave.

"Fuck, come on!" Rick yelled. He grabbed hold of Morty's arm and tugged him to follow, then took off running down the hallway that hadn't collapsed yet. "Hop on, Morty, quick! Quick!"

Running as fast as his little legs could carry him, Morty panted in a panic, eyes zeroed in on his Rick's tall, slender back. Pushing off with his feet, he pumped his wings as best as he could in the confined space and managed to clutch onto the old man's lab coat, drawing himself in further. Settling into his natural position on Rick's back, the winged teen clung tightly, trusting in the man to have a plan to get them out of that mess.

Rick ran faster, knowing that Morty was securely latched to his back. The caves around them were rumbling and groaning. Small rocks and debris were cascading around their forms as he barreled through the tunnels. His breaths were quick and the heat of their escape rose steadily the further he ran.

Rick's feet fumbled and slid across the dusted, gravelly terrain, stumbling to a halt at a fork in the underground passageway. Up ahead, to the right, there was an orangey yellow glow that emanated in the distance, reflecting softly off the walls of the tunnel, and Rick turned and headed for it immediately. It must have been the other side of the mountain and an exit into open air! What luck!

He ran down the rocky hallway, rubble pattering to his head and shoulders, dust making him and his Morty cough, the ground shaking so hard, it made each step feel like he was going to stumble and fall.

"Hang on, Morty!"

The feel of little hands and feet gripping him tighter and knees and thighs pressing harder into his sides was as reassuring as the shouted, "I-I got you, Rick!" coming from behind his shoulder.

Rick ran as fast as he could, starting to really sweat bullets as the urgency and heat of their escape rose exponentially. Approaching the light, he flew out of the tunnel into it, stumbling to a shaky halt and doubling over, propping his hands to his knees, gasping and panting for a breath. Sweat dripped from his nose and chin, his clothes felt damp and itchy where they clung to his body, and every huffed breath he took dried his mouth and throat more and more.

Eyes darting around the area, he stood back to full height and let a disgruntled groan leave his sandy throat when he realized that it wasn't the comforting rays of sunlight that he saw down that hallway...it was the warm glow of lava. Pools of glowing hot molten rock dotted the huge underground chamber, some in pits and some in raised crater-like bowls, lighting up the entire place. Steam rose from vents protruding up from the floor, making the room feel muggy on top of the sweltering heat.

It wasn't that he was hot and sweaty from their hasty escape, it was the heat from the room as they approached it that had affected him so pointedly.

"Oh, fuck me..." Rick groaned, slumping a bit.

The ground began shaking again, and he staggered back and forth to keep on his feet.

"Shit, hold on, Morty!"

"Rick, I'm scared!" the boy cried, clinging to him desperately.

"Don't worry, bro; I got this!" Rick replied loudly, digging his hand into his lab coat and withdrawing his portal gun. He lifted it out to aim it toward the ground, but a large rock just then decided to break free from the ceiling and dropped onto his forearm hard. "Augh!" he roared in pain, dropping the portal gun to the rocky floor. It tumbled and skidded to a rest near one of the bubbling craters. Rick hissed and hunched forward, cradling his injured arm to his chest. "Fucking dammit!" He didn't think it was broken, but it fucking hurt like a bitch.

The earthquakes intensified, and Rick fought hard to stay standing. It came to mind that it might be a good idea to look upward, and he did so. Dozens of stalactites hung from the rocky ceiling above them, mirroring the stalagmites rising up from the floor of the cavern. Some were short and some were long and some were even connected together, forming pillars that appeared to hold the ceiling up. It was the stalactites above them that had Rick suddenly fearful for their immediate safety when he noticed lots of them cracking and crumbling. Dust and small rubble spilled off of them, like an indicator that they were at the end of their long lives spent dangling from the ceiling.

In the heartbeats that followed, Rick reached one arm around his shoulder and grabbed hold of Morty's yellow shirt. He gave one solid yank and pulled the boy off of his back and whipped him around in front of himself, lurching over his small body and throwing them both to the rocky ground. He vaguely heard his own voice shouting, "Look out, Morty!" before the roar of the planet beneath them and the cascade of rocks from above drowned out all other sounds.

Morty screamed as one of the lichen jars smashed on the ground beside him when he was thrown against it, but his voice was muffled as Rick wrapped his arms around the boy's head and pressed it firmly against his large chest. The old man tucked his little winged Morty under his body and hunched over him, turning into a human shield to protect him from the cascading rocks from above.

"Riiiick!" Morty shrieked against the scientist's dirty teal shirt, clinging to his lapels. The old man's position, curled over top of him, only brought forth a rush of terrible, panic-inducing memories that rivaled the fear over the situation at hand. The last time his Rick, his original, had assumed that same position...only Morty had made it out alive...

Oh, God...oh, fuck...please, no! Not again!

"No, Riii-hiiick! Rick, pleeeease!" he begged in a shrill screech.

He was answered by a large hand cupping over top of his head and pushing it further against a firm chest.

"I got you, Morty!" Rick yelled above the angry roar of the planet pitching a fit all around them.

Unable to move in the incredibly strong hold, the boy was forced to endure the panic screaming through his body, erupting past his lips vocally to be muffled by a strong chest clad in teal fabric and then drowned out by the earthquake and falling rubble.

They held their ground as the chamber shook and the lava bubbled dangerously close to them, some of the raised craters boiling over and oozing molten rock down around their sides, adding another layer to the rocky bowls that cradled them as the lava slowly cooled. The vents hissed and sputtered, spewing the hot steam like a pack of train whistles all blowing at once. Stalactites, whole or in part, uncoupled from the ceiling of the huge chamber and fell all around them, splashing into the pools of lava and splattering the molten rock dangerously close to their bodies. They were showered from above by dust and debris, the falling rocks cracking and shattering on the uneven floor.

Morty screamed even more, tears boiling from his eyes harder than the lava was boiling in the pits when he felt his Rick's body jolting above him as he was pummeled by the falling stalactites.

Please, no! No, no!

Suddenly, just as it had all started, everything stopped. A few straggler rocks cracked and fell to the ground in the aftermath of the earthquake, but when the last of them finally rolled to a halt, all that was left to hear was the low rumbling bubble of the lava pits throughout the huge room and the soft hiss of the steam vents returning to their normal, slowly puffing output.

Morty panted in a panic and shook his hands, clenched into fists into Rick's dirty lab coat. "R...R-Rick...?... Rick??"

Groaning, Rick moved, untucking his body from over top of Morty's and resting on his elbows above him. He stared down at his upset companion and smiled wearily, panting, sweating, and filthy. His normally already spiky hair was an absolute mess, dust spilling out from the clumping strands and small pebbles falling down over his shoulders.

"Are...a-are you okay, M-Morty?" he asked, voice a rough scrape over his vocal chords.

Morty whined but nodded, relaxing beneath the old man's protective form, relief washing over his body so starkly that he felt lightheaded in its wake. At worst, he had a few scrapes and bruises. Really, the weight of Rick's hips and legs laying on top of him was probably worse than his injuries, but he couldn't bring himself to say anything because it was such a reassuring feeling—that closeness with his Rick after such a harrowing ordeal.

He had been so afraid...so very afraid that he was about to lose his gentle, kindhearted Rick.

The old scientist sighed in relief and closed his eyes briefly before looking down at his little Morty again. "I-I'm so glad, Morty..." Reaching a hand in, he traced his fingers along the boy's hairline delicately as he stared into his beautiful but fear-stricken blue eyes. "If anything h-happened to you..."

A small trickle of blood slipped out from Rick's hairline and trailed along his temple before dripping off and splashing a droplet onto Morty's dirty, tear and sweat-streaked cheek.

"If...i-if anything...happened to you...M-Morty..." Slowly, the features of Rick's face relaxed, and his eyes grew hazy and distant. "I...I-I'd never...forgive..." His body became heavier, and he sagged over top of Morty, dripping more blood onto his face as the boy's eyes widened in horror. "...my...m-my..." Rick slumped, eyes rolling up and head dropping down beside Morty's. His entire body went slack, suddenly weighing so much, it squeezed all the air out of the kid's lungs.

"Ri...R-Rhiick!" he wheezed, struggling with the dead weight, trying to push the old man off so he could breathe. He shouted in strain as he pushed up on Rick's shoulder, wiggling to the side at the same time. Managing to pull one wing out, he flapped it to gain some pull in order to scoot further out from under Rick's heavy body. The other wing tugged free a moment later, and he flapped both, losing a couple feathers as he struggled madly to get away. Finally, he managed to slip out and stood on wobbly legs just long enough to take a quick look around the huge chamber, then dropped to his knees next to his older partner.

"Rick! Rick!" Shaking him got no response. "Oh, no, Rick!" On top of the spattering of rocky debris and dust and dirt coating Rick's back, there was a dark smear of blood on the back of the old man's head where he'd been struck by one of the falling rocks. Morty gasped upon noticing it and reached a hand to gently paw at the bloody hair and scrape on his bald spot, trying to see the extent of the wound. "Aw geez, this is bad! Come on, Rick, wake up!" He shook his elder harder, managing to roll him onto his side. Quickly, he checked the scientist's pulse along his neck, and nearly fell over with relief when he felt the strong throb of his heartbeat under his little fingers. Cupping the lightly wrinkled, slack face, Morty wiped at the blood on his companion's temple with a featherlight brush of his thumb. "My Rick..." he whined weakly, tears pooling in his eyes.

His Rick saved him...

With a whimper, the winged teen leaned down, holding the old man's face and bringing their foreheads together.

His Rick saved his life...

Sniffling and hiccuping, Morty whined as he nosed along the man's sweaty brow, bestowing affection upon his Rick that he could feel churning in his heart and spreading throughout his body with nervous, fluttery heat. He pressed his lips to the scientist's forehead, overtaken by the feelings bubbling up in his chest the way the lava bubbled in those pits not far away, the heat in his heart just as intense. The taste of salt and earth coated his lips, but were not one bit a deterrent from lingering there just a moment longer.

His Rick used his own body as a shield and sacrificed his own safety to protect him!

Morty frowned and backed away, staring down at his new Rick with heated affection and stark determination. He fought to not cry anymore, wiping at his wet cheeks and smearing the tears, dirt, and drops of the old man's blood across them, inadvertently decorating them like war paint. He had to be strong! He had to do something to save his new Rick! That precious old man that cared for him and treated him so well...that saved his life! He would not let his new Rick share a similar fate as his old! He had to do something! The adventure wasn't over yet!

Standing back up, Morty looked around again, desperate to see something that could help—a way out, even a random thing that could give him an idea of what to do, anything! His eyes darted along the floor, over bubbling pools of lava, skipping over steam vents and new piles of rubble and cooling globs of molten rock all over the place. Then, he froze, eyes locked onto a shining beacon of hope. There! By a blubbing pool of lava laid the portal gun!

Dashing over, Morty knelt on his haunches a short distance away, the heat too intense for him to possibly get any closer without at least singeing his eyebrows off. Trying to keep his body leaned away was difficult while stretching to reach over and paw the device away from the sweltering pool and closer to himself. Quickly, he had to give up and back off, panting and cupping at his forehead, feeling the intense heat that had soaked into his own skin. He brought his wing around as a shield, blocking the heat from the lava as best he could for a moment until he regained his bearings enough to try again.

Morty blinked and stared at his own wing. Of course! Why didn't he think of that sooner?! His wings had a much further reach than his meager little arms, and so he quickly stretched it out and brushed the tips of his long flight feathers against the portal gun, trying to sweep it closer. He stiffened his plumes as much as was possible, using them like a broom. The heat was still so intense that the vane of the feathers on the outside of his wing was beginning to sizzle and melt, the once silken texture turning hard and fusing together. But he didn't care. The only thing that mattered was rescuing his Rick!

Finally, he scooped the portal gun close enough that he was able to pick it up, but the thing was so hot in his hand, Morty hissed and passed it to his other hand as he stood and ran back over to his Rick's side, waving his wing as he went since it was still smoking. He blew on the handle of the device for a moment, trying to cool it off while passing it back and forth between his hands.

"D-Don't worry, Rick! I got the portal gun back! I-I-I'll get us home safe!" he promised the unconscious old man.

He looked the device over. It looked exactly like his original's portal gun, only larger in size. He never really messed with his original's gun, but he'd seen it used many times, so he had a general understanding of how the thing worked. Carefully, he turned the dark grey button near the handle just slightly to change the coordinates on the red LED screen back to where they had come from, landing on S-322, his new home dimension. Pointing the gun at the ground near Rick's unconscious body, Morty fired a portal. It bloomed to life next to the scientist's limp form and the boy quickly tucked the gun back inside Rick's lab coat for safe keeping.

"O-Okay, Rick. Let's go home," the boy said, relief clear in his voice. Kneeling down, he pushed Rick over, rolling his limp body into the portal, and he fell through, disappearing past the swirling green surface. Morty sighed, so glad that the once good-turned-terrible adventure was over and hopped into the portal himself, trying to think of where Rick kept his healing serums in the lab so he could help the old man once he was home.

As soon as he passed out of the portal on the other side, however, his stomach leapt up through his throat, and he flailed, falling, falling, and still falling down toward a cloud bank far below.

He was above the clouds?!

Morty gasped and righted himself from tumbling, staring down through watering eyes at his poor unconscious Rick, dropping like a stone toward the Earth, already at terminal velocity.

Shit, he'd forgotten that the portal gun was still calibrated for the space car, and it had left their home dimension while sailing far into the atmosphere! And that was exactly where it put them back when returning!

Oh, fuck! They were so screwed!

Rick's unconscious body dropped into the clouds and Morty panicked. Tucking himself into a tight arrow, he angled himself directly at his Rick, careening faster through the sky to catch up to him. If there was one thing he was really good at, it was flying, and he would use his aerial knowledge to his utmost ability in order to, hopefully, save himself and his precious Rick. Especially after he fucked up the impromptu rescue mission so royally!

The foggy sight of the old man through the clouds caught his eye, and Morty angled himself better to meet up with him. "Riiiick!" he screamed as loud as he could through the rushing roar of wind. "I'm coming, Rick!"

Just as they broke through the bottom of the clouds, he caught up to the scientist and reached his arms forward, latching onto the lapels of Rick's lab coat and drawing him close to his small body. "Rick! Rick, I've got you! Wake up!" Despite his desperate pleads, the old man remained unconscious, much to Morty's dismay. "Aw geez, not good!"

Maybe there was something in Rick's infinitely deep pockets that could save the day, but Morty was running out of precious time to actually find something useful by random chance. Even if he did pull something out that could help, he probably wouldn't know how to use it.

Looking past Rick's shoulder and wildly flailing hair, the teen took note of the land far below. They were still very high up, but the Earth was rushing up too fast for the boy's liking. If it were just himself, he wouldn't be in any danger at all. He could easily just spread his wings and sail gracefully back down to the ground, but with Rick and his large body and heavy weight, Morty didn't stand a chance at landing them **both** safely.

His eyes scanned the surface of the planet that was about to be the windshield they were going to splatter against. Much of the land was covered in forests. They were high, high above where Rick's house was, and he was definitely living well off the grid.

There was a shimmer off to the northwest that caught Morty's eye, and he turned his attention in that direction. There was a lake over there, one he hadn't noticed before because it was too far away and he was never high enough when out flying to see it.

Morty frowned. Heated determination pounded through his veins. Yes he **would** land them both safely!

Wrapping his arms around Rick under his armpits, Morty clung to his lab coat along his spine with both hands. He tucked his legs around the old man's hips and dug his longer toes and hooked nails into the brown pants behind Rick's thighs.

"H-Hold on, Rick!" he shouted determinedly, staring at the old man's slack face. "I've got this, partner!"

Carefully, Morty untucked his wings from his back, holding them stiffly, knowing that when he caught the wind, it would drag and pull hard on them. He wasn't prepared for how hard it would actually pull, though, when trying to cart along weight that was nearly three times his own. His wings were whipped upward with the drag and flailed uselessly in the high winds, straining his muscles and pulling something in his shoulder. He cried out in pain, but quickly cut himself off and reinforced his hold on his dear Rick, committed to saving his life, even if it was the last thing he would ever do. Gritting his teeth, Morty growled in strain, fighting against the unrelenting winds to curl his wings enough to cup the air. He could feel his muscles straining harder than he ever could remember. With more effort than he thought possible for his little body, he managed to arch his wings enough behind himself that they gathered the wind under them, but the speed at which they were falling was so fast that what little air he did catch whipped them both bodily upward and sent them on a free-fall tumble that nearly made Morty sick.

He clung to Rick as hard as he could and opened his wings again, fighting with their spinning and tumbling, moving his wings out and in, up or down, teeth grit the entire time, trying to right their fall before he puked. Finally, he caught a heavy gust and they tilted upright again, with Morty on top and shouting in strain to keep his wings in that position and retain his hold of Rick's heavy body.

He could do it! He was strong! He was going to save them both!

Morty yelled loudly, fighting to angle his wings just slightly enough that they tilted toward the northwest, toward that lake in the distance. Using his wings as a glider, they sailed along like a speeding bullet, the wind whipping past them, flapping through Rick's clothes and doing all it could to beat the hell out of Morty's meager wingspan. He'd never felt anything pull so hard on his wings before in his life, even more than that one time he'd been kidnapped from his original's side, and the bad guys had pulled on his wings as a threat to his original to cooperate. He could feel some of his feathers ripping free, probably the ones that were already badly damaged from the heat of the lava pit, but dared not turn his head to look to see if he was right and watch them flying away. His gaze was locked onto that lake, zeroed in like a sniper through a scope, looking for that perfect headshot.

He'd lost one Rick. He could **not** lose another! Especially not so soon after being adopted by him. Morty still wanted to get to know his new Rick even more than he had already. He wanted to spend as much time with him as possible—wanted to watch TV with him, eat meals with him, help him invent in his cool lab, go out for trips in his neat car, go on adventure after adventure to help the old scientist gather supplies, no matter how boring some of them happened to be, just like today...only less life-threatening. Morty clung to his precious Rick, feeling the man's body heat warm him despite the cold wind blasting past their bodies. Fuck, what he wouldn't give to be able to cling to that man even more...more than just to ride on his back. He liked the way Rick smelled, the way he felt when Morty rode around on him, the fabric of his lab coat, the wisp of his silvery-blue hair when the boy let his face drift a little too close...the feel of his lean muscles and bony shoulders under his clothes...the swagger of the old man's hips under the boy's clinging feet when he walked...

Oh, God, Morty couldn't lose him! Not now, not ever!

He pulled up hard on Rick's body, holding him so tightly, the man started to wheeze. Fighting the air current under his wings, Morty grit his teeth again and roared in strain, arching them outward to better catch the wind and help them sail at a more gentle angle toward the surface of the lake...which was rushing up to meet them rather quickly. His wings hurt more than if he'd outright broken his bones, his muscles strained beyond their maximum. Morty could swear he heard snapping and popping through them, and knew without a doubt that the matching tearing sensations in his back were not good signs. But nothing was going to stop him. Nothing short of his wings ripping out of his back would stop him from saving his sweet, kindhearted Rick!

The shimmering surface of the water approached, and Morty, in one last ditch effort to slow their momentum, pulled up hard on his arms around Rick and beat his wings against the drag of the air. It was unclear if it helped or not because they still hit the lake like slamming into a brick wall. With a great splash, both Rick and Morty plunged underwater, leaving the surface erupting with bubbles and churning to try to rush in and fill the void left in their wake.

An eternal handful of seconds passed...

Murky lake water gushed and splashed upward as Rick resurfaced, arms flailing and gasping for a breath. He coughed and sputtered and struggled in the frigid water, trying to regain his bearings. His whole body ached, his back felt like it had been the target of over a dozen high-speed baseballs, and his right arm hurt like a bitch. And don't even get him started on how badly his head ached and throbbed.

Coughing again, Rick spat water out of his mouth and snorted to get the stinging sensation of the liquid out of his nose. Wait...how the fuck did he get in water? His grey eyes scanned his surroundings with more scrutiny. He was in a lake? Wasn't he just in that hot lava cave, protecting Morty from the falling rocks during an earthquake?

Rick's eyes widened.

Oh, shit! Morty!

"Morty!" he shouted, his voice echoing across the lake and into the trees along the shoreline. "Moooorty!!" He swished about, looking this way and that. But there was no small winged boy to be seen. "Shit! Fuck! Moooorrrtyyyy!" he screamed at the top of his lungs.

His only answer was the squawking of birds taking flight out of the trees.

Wait...if he himself was in the water, then...

Rick swished about and looked down into the murky depths of the lake. He couldn't see anything outright, but that didn't mean anything. He inhaled a deep breath and dove under, kicking his legs and swimming with his sore arms downward as far as he could, icy grey eyes scanning the cloudy water for any signs of the boy—a flash of yellow, a—some feathers! There were some feathers slowly rising to the surface toward him! And if he followed them down... He pumped his legs even harder, fighting against his buoyancy to continue diving deeper. There! The soft blue glow from the lichen jars that were still strapped around the boy's waist! The light led Rick right to his little Morty, and he grabbed around that belt and tugged the limp kid up into his arms. He turned and kicked his legs as hard as he could, using one arm now to help swim to the surface as fast as was possible for his god-like but fallible human body. The sunlight shimmered across the water above him, and he narrowed his eyes, holding onto his breath as long as was necessary.

Breaking the surface tension, Rick erupted into the air, gasping heavily for a breath and coughing. "Mor—koff-k-k-ugh... M-Morty!" he gasped and gurgled, struggling to swim toward the shoreline with his limp little buddy in tow.

He made it to the shore and stumbled through the water on heavy legs, cradling the floppy winged boy as though he was a dainty princess. The drag of the liquid and his heavily soaked clothes forced him to lurch and fall to his knees several times, tucking the kid tightly against his chest in order to keep ahold of him. Finally, he trudged out of the water and fell to his knees once again, laying his precious Morty onto the grass just beyond the dirt of the shoreline.

Rick outright panicked over the kid. The boy was totally limp, his head lolling like his little neck was broken, his limbs flopping with incredibly loose joints, his delicate wings looking scraggly and definitely not right. Rick groaned and held his own head, feeling a little dizzy, but he couldn't deal with that right then. He had to deal with Morty.

The kid wasn't breathing!

Quickly, Rick tilted the boy over onto his stomach and held a fist just under his ribcage. Very gently, he pushed up and into Morty's diaphragm, not enough to hurt his internal organs (any more than they might have already been) but enough to Heimlich the water out of the kid's lungs.

Morty spit and sputtered, then vomited the lake water violently, it pouring out of his mouth and even his nose. Inhaling a long deep drag, the sound high-pitched and shaking, he ended up coughing and gagging, throwing up more water.

"There you go... Good boy, Morty. Good boy," Rick praised in stark relief, stroking the kid's back between his limp wings. "That's a good boy, Morty. Breathe, there you go..."

Coughing and groaning, Morty fell wearily to the grass on his belly, shaking and whining. "R...Rick..."

Rick leaned closely over him, petting along the boy's drenched feathery hair. "I-I'm here, Morty. I'm r-right here. Good boy, breathe, Morty. I-It's okay now. I got you, buddy." His voice shook just as hard as his hands, as the rest of his body. He rested his forehead lightly to the boy's shoulder and cupped his other hand around his thin waist, curling around his little form, providing warmth and what he hoped was comfort. "I got you..." he mumbled lowly to the wet fabric of the boy's soaked, dirty yellow shirt. He couldn't help but kiss the kid's shoulder under his trembling lips, his relief that Morty was alive insurmountable.

"Th-They h-hurt, Rick..." the boy moaned, his body shivering, stiffening, then shivering again. He was so cold from the water, so hopped up on adrenaline, that he couldn't stop from shaking, even though when he did, he was rewarded with sharp, hot pain.

Rick lifted away from him immediately, staring down at him, grey eyes scanning the boy's body intently. "What? What hurts? Tell—Tell me, Morty!"

"My...w-wings...and back..." the boy whined, trying to shift to sit up, but freezing and groaning in pain.

Shaking weathered hands reached in and cupped between the kid's wings and touched lightly along one of the feathered appendages, constricting his fingers lightly but enough to inspect it. The response was a loud hiss, and Morty stiffened.

" _Shit..._ " Rick cursed softly, wide eyes taking in that reaction with fear. He'd always been a little afraid of what might happen if the boy's beautiful wings were ever hurt or broken...now it looked like he had finally been presented with that very scenario. "I gotta get you back to my lab, Morty," he told the boy urgently, shifting to stand. His head swam and he swayed on his feet, but he fought through it. His little Morty was much more important than what was probably a mild concussion. Digging into his lab coat, he came up with his portal gun. It only took him a moment to calibrate the coordinates on the device, then he angled and fired it at the grassy ground nearby. Tucking it back away, Rick stooped down to work his hands under Morty's armpits and lifted him up against his chest, arms quickly moving to wrap under his butt and around his back under the floppy, dangling wings to keep him cradled securely.

Morty whined and hissed, his little hands gripping into the scientist's dirty teal shirt and curling up against his warmth, seeking whatever comfort he could draw out of the older man. "It h-hurts, Rick..."

"I know, I know, buddy. But you gotta suck it up for a minute," Rick told him with firm compassion. "Gotta get you back to the lab. We'll fix it right up, Morty. Don—Don't worry." He carted the boy through the portal, hopping in and landing neatly in his experimental lab, two floors below his home.

Immediately, Rick took him over and plopped his little behind on the same table he'd used to give the boy a thorough examination the first day of their new partnership. He hit a few specific buttons on the keypad connected with the table and the bright overhead lights lit Morty up. A wide blueish-white beam passed over his body, then projected the results on a virtual display in front of the scientist. Rick spun the 3D model of Morty's body around and focused on his back and wings. They were displayed as hanging limply and spread out along an invisible surface, reflecting the way the boy was sitting with the feathered appendages laying along the exam table behind his body. Rick spread his hands apart, zooming in on Morty's wings and back, watching as the image faded the exterior of the kid's body and showed an x-ray of the interior. Information blurbs popped up, pointing to various parts of Morty's anatomy, and Rick carefully read the readouts. There were innumerable hairline fractures littering the boy's bones, making them look like crackled ceramic. Muscles were pulled, even shredded. Tendons were snapped.

Rick whipped his wide-eyed gaze to his little Morty, sitting there and looking back at him. The pain was apparent on his taut, stress-lined face and seated posture, hunched over and clinging to the edge of the table. Tears tracked his already wet face and dripped off his little rounded chin. The boy's beautiful brown wings were lying limply on the table behind himself, and now Rick knew why. They didn't just hurt, the kid couldn't even move them anymore! They were hanging off his back like useless, broken arms! The muscles and tendons that were supposed to make them move were all completely shredded!

Whirling, Rick rushed over to another bench with drawers lining along the upper edge and yanked two open at once, scanning both as fast as possible. "Where the fuck did I put those?!" he snarled, pulling a third drawer open. Striking pay dirt, he reached in and yanked out a clear baggie full of what looked like golden, yellow-orange throat lozenges. Grabbing one out, he trotted back over to his whimpering Morty's side and held it near the kid's mouth. "Open—Open up, Morty."

Doing as told, the boy parted his lips and stuck out his tongue, his pained breaths panting through his now open mouth. Rick gently laid the candy-like object on the teen's tongue and pressed them both back into Morty's mouth, staring at his little lips circling the digit for a second before slowly pulling it free.

Rick swallowed and licked his own lips, allowing himself the freedom to be allured by that brief little interaction, knowing that everything would be fine again very soon. ' _So trusting...thank fuck I'm not a piece of shit Rick..._ ' he thought with great relief as he watched the kid roll whatever that thing was around in his mouth for a moment.

Morty looked up at him, eyes widening a little despite the pain leaving lines of stress at their corners. "It—It tastes like that healing tree sap."

Nodding, Rick plucked one of the small disks out of the bag and popped it into his own mouth. Sucking on it for a moment to get the effects underway, he then tucked it between his teeth and cheek in order to speak around it. "They're healing candies, Morty. I-I made them after our adventure to gather the sap. Put a couple additives in there to make the healing more robust. They—They won't fix near fatal shit, but for what we've both suffered during this last adventure, they're more than enough."

Morty nodded and sucked at the tasty, caramel-like candy. It coated his tongue and slid down his throat smoothly, leaving things warm and tingly all the way down into his strained belly. The relief was just shy of immediate. The pain eased, dulled, and faded away from his back and wings, and even other places he hadn't even realized were hurting until the ache evaporated, leaving him breathing much easier.

Rick cupped his small chin in his fingers and tilted his face upward to better look at him. "Don't swallow it whole, Morty. You gotta—g-gotta suck on it to get all the benefits."

Morty nodded, humming a little, "Mm-hmm" in answer.

"Lemme...lemme see, Morty... Gotta make sure you're listening," Rick urged, staring hard at the boy's closed lips. He swallowed so heavily, he nearly gulped down his own candy on accident.

Morty obediently parted his lips and stuck his little pink tongue out a bit, displaying the partially dissolved healing candy. His slaver strung between his teeth a bit, and the golden lozenge laid shiny and wet, pillowed on the center of the boy's little tongue.

It was so, so very difficult to stifle the groan that wanted to gurgle from deep in his gut and erupt up out of Rick's throat.

Trying to cover up his pervy achieved goal of seeing the boy suck on those healing candies, invented for just that purpose—score!—Rick nodded and leaned closer, tucking the kid against his chest in a protective hug. "Good...good boy... Just suck on that 'till it's all gone. You'll be better in no time, Morty," he promised sincerely.

Looking over the boy's shoulders from his high vantage point, Rick tried to ignore the little face nuzzling into his chest and the contented sigh that tickled his ears, instead, fighting hard to pay more attention to Morty's wings. They were giving little twitches as the cracks in the bones sealed and the muscles and tendons rerooted and knitted themselves back together. He stroked a tender hand along one, eyebrow tented in deep concern. The feathers looked haggard and filthy, even after taking a dunk in the lake.

Speaking of which...

"Morty...tell me what happened. How did we end up in that lake? How'd you get so hurt?" he implored softly, backing away enough to cup the boy's head in both hands, losing his fingers in downy wet plumes. The last he remembered seeing him, the kid was curled up under his body protectively in that cave.

Morty gazed up at him, eyes going a little glassy again. He reached up and stroked along the old man's temple and carded his fingers through the silvery-blue hair around the side of his head, where there was still a stain of blood, even though it had been a bit washed out by the water. "You were out cold, Rick," he began, cupping his exploring hand to the scientist's ashen cheek. "I found your portal gun and set it to come home, but...um...it put us way up in the sky instead of in the house..."

Rick's mouth fell open a little. The dots were all connected quickly, and now it all made sense.

"Fuckin' hell, Morty..." he uttered softly, flicking his eyes over the kid's cute face, gazing up at him with not only concern mixed with relief, but adoration as well. Gently, he took one hand from Morty's hair and drew it along one of his still limp wings. "You...y-you ripped the fuck outta your wings to get us over to the lake, didn't you..." he wondered absently, not even bothering to pose it as a question. Grey eyes remained staring at the ruffled damp plumage as long, thin fingers passed over it tenderly.

A pout pulled on Morty's features, and he whimpered quietly. "I...I-I couldn't let you die, Rick. E-Especially since it was my fault we ended up falling anyway. I'd g-gladly shred up my wings if it meant saving you, Rick."

The old man exhaled deeply and tucked the kid against his wet shirt again, embracing him as strongly as he dared. "Don't say that, Morty. Fuck, just..." He sniffed and pet along the boy's head and one wing lovingly. "You're such a good kid, Morty. Fuck, you...you saved my life, Morty. You saved us both." Leaning away a little, he cupped the boy's cheek in one large hand, the palm hot and fingers lightly trembling. "I'm so proud of you, Morty." The words were spoken with deep, heartfelt sincerity.

The kid's face lit up, and he smiled widely. A deep blush spread over his cheeks, and he shyly cupped the back of Rick's hand and turned his face into the palm, trying to hide in the most adorably embarrassed way the old man had ever seen. Chuckling, he spread his fingers wide and grabbed at the boy's face, emitting a playful growl and shaking it lightly. Morty giggled and pushed the hand away, staring up at Rick with the happiest expression. His own grin notwithstanding, Rick teased his fingers back through the boy's feathered hair, idly trying to separate the clumping wet strands.

"Now I know for sure that you've got my back, kid," he admitted proudly, as if that had possibly been some concern he'd held previously. "I never doubted it before, but I'll definitely never doubt it ever after today."

Morty beamed up at him, the smile so bright, Rick had to close his eyes against it and sigh deeply. "A-And you got my back too, Rick. You protected me from—from those falling rocks...got beaned in the head for it too. I-I'll never doubt you, Rick. Never ever."

Rick chuckled, lightly pinching the kid's chin between a thumb and forefinger. "And you never should, Morty."

A soft gristly pop sounded, and Morty tensed and gasped then moaned softly in stark relief. His wings lifted off the table at last, and he glanced over his shoulder, watching them as he moved them around cautiously. There was no pain, and their full mobility had returned. The feathers were still rather fucked up, but it didn't seem like anything a good ol' preening and plucking couldn't handle. Sighing in relieved happiness, Morty turned back to his Rick, lifting that warm, happy smile up at him again. "I won't, Rick. Th-Thanks, partner."

Chuckling, Rick nodded and stroked along those wings himself, lightly pinching at the fragile bones beneath the skin and feathers, checking for anything that could possibly still be wrong. Reassured that things were fine after a moment, he pet at the plumage instead, trying to straighten it out.

"S-Sorry about this one jar, though, Rick," Morty apologized, looking down at his side and fingering at the damaged cap that was still attached to his utility belt. The glass jar that had been screwed into it was missing, having been broken and lost back in that sweltering cave in the midst of the calamity.

Rick pishawed and reached down to carefully unhook the leather belt. "You kidding me, Morty? You really think I give a shit about one little jar getting busted? After everything that just went down?"

The boy blushed a bit and shrugged, staring at the old man's dextrous fingers as they fiddled with the belt buckle. The closeness of those big hands to his belly and groin, in the act of taking something off of him, made a tingly sort of heat rise in his guts, worsening the blush on his face.

"The only thing I'm grateful for is that the rest of these didn't break too. Because this belt was what led me right to you in that dirty old lake, Morty. It wasn't hard to find your little glowing ass after I swam down far enough."

Morty giggled at that. "Too—Too bad I'm not a firefly Morty, huh, Rick? I could still fly, but my butt would glow all the time so you'd know where to find me."

Unable to hold back, Rick let out a hearty laugh, finally pulling the wet leather free from the buckle and laying the belt and attached jars aside on the table. "Real cute, Morty. Only thing is, fireflies' butts glow when they're trying to attract mates. It's not like a flashlight. Those fireflies are horny, Morty. They wanna get their freak on when they glow like that. So the only way I'd see your glowing ass is if you were being a horny little bugger, Morty. Hah! But I hear that Mortys are pretty much **always** horny, so I guess you **would** be shiny all the time, amiright? Ha-ha-ha!"

Morty shied into himself but couldn't help giggling along with Rick's mirth. "I-I dunno, Rick..." he mumbled embarrassedly. "Even if that was the case...the only person that would see my glowy butt would be you, so...I-I guess that would still serve the same purpose, right? L-Leading you to me?"

Rick sputtered and choked on a laugh, turning and coughing into his fist for a moment until he caught his breath. "Um... _ahem_! Uh...y-yeah, Morty," he mumbled, averting his eyes. He swore his face was a million degrees right then.

An awkward sort of silence filled the room between them, the only other sounds being the soft humming of equipment elsewhere in the lab.

"S-Say, Rick?" the boy ventured, timidly, quietly.

"Hm?" Rick answered, flicking his eyes to Morty's lightly blushed face. He felt a slight hope stirring in his chest, realizing the boy wasn't completely unaffected by the backhanded flirting.

"Um...I... D-Do you th-think..."

Curious, Rick turned to fully face him, staring into the boy's averted eyes. "What is it, Morty?" His heart picked up in pace, nerves making his body break out into a case of sweaty goosebumps, and the wet clothes clinging to his skin started feeling very uncomfortable and itchy. The kid couldn't **possibly** be asking for what Rick wished on every star in the galaxy for, ever since the day he'd laid eyes on him in that Meet'N'Greet room on the Citadel...

Looking up at him, Morty nibbled on his lip to keep the awkward smile from blooming too far across his mouth. "Um... Rick... Do you think maybe... C-Could we...?"

Rick held his breath, shivers running down his spine and butterflies fighting a fierce battle in his belly.

"...get some...ice cream...? I mean...th-that adventure was kinda rough, ya know? It—It might be nice to unwind a little, you get me?"

Exhaling the breath he'd been holding, Rick slumped a little, feeling hot and cold both rush through his veins...and also disappointment. But he supposed it was a little out of the realm of possibility for his Morty to be asking for a **kiss** , even after they were kinda-sorta flirting...maybe...a little... Brushing that thought aside, Rick's face lit up with a big, toothy smile...because ice cream was a treat that always made everything better and infinitely more tolerable.

"Sure, Morty, yeah yeah! We'll hop in my car, and—" his thought process screeched to a halt. "Ah...my car...it's still back on that planet." Turning, he rummaged through his lab coat, looking for his portal gun. "I'll just go get it, and then we'll—"

"I-I'll come too!" Morty piped, hopping down off the table and stretching his body and wings, sighing in relief. That healing candy had dissolved completely a few minutes ago, and it had certainly done the trick in repairing all of his injuries. More than ever, he was incredibly grateful for how intelligent Ricks were, to be able to manufacture practically anything, and to be able to heal wounds almost as fast as a finger snap.

"N-No!" Rick ordered loudly, turning to face him fully as he pulled the portal gun out from his coat.

The boy looked up at him, face twisting into a pout. "Aww...why not, Rick?"

"I-It's too dangerous, Morty. You just stay here, and—"

"But the danger was in the cave, Rick. The car is parked outside. W-We're just gonna portal there and hop right in, aren't we?" the boy argued, neck craned up to look at his tall companion.

Rick could feel his resolve crumbling under that pouty look of confusion. Really, there wasn't any real concern about going back to that planet just to get the car, but...after what happened...he was feeling rather overprotective of his fragile little Morty.

"C'mon, Rick. Please? Th-Then we can head right out for ice cream instead of you having to come back to pick me up. D-Doesn't that make sense?"

Groaning, Rick wiped a hand down over his face, the last of his resolve shattering to dust and leaving him sagging where he stood. He really was so weak to the boy's cute little pleads. "O-Okay, fine, Morty, fine..." he grumbled placatingly. "Stick to my back and don't let go 'till we're by the car, though, got it?"

"Sure thing, Rick!" With an eager nod, Morty ducked behind him and hopped up onto the old man's back, their wet clothes slapping together loudly. "Ugh..." he uttered, his toes grifting against the waterlogged material of the old man's brown pants.

Instead of firing a portal, Rick turned and headed for the stairwell. "Yeaaaah...why don't we go get changed first, huh, Morty?"

Giggling, the boy slouched over the old man's shoulder, squishing their wet clothes together. "Good idea, Rick."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had the idea of Morty having to save Rick while falling out of the sky for the longest time, but wasn't sure how to implement it into the story. It actually took a really long time of coming back to the concept over and over to actually hone it down to a point where it would work for this story, and I actually added it very late in the game. I hope it fits, anyway, because I really wanted to have that scenario happen. I just hope it didn't seem **too** forced, and that it fits in with everything else. >_<
> 
> That being said...I really like this chapter... Hope you did too! Thank you for reading! <3


	10. The Communrickation Gap

Rick yawned and stretched his long arms high into the air above his head as he meandered through the house. It was late into the night, and he had stayed up to finish a little project he'd started that morning. It was always a bother to stop half-way through doing something because he found it somewhat difficult to pick it back up again later. So he tried to always finish shorter projects without taking breaks. Sometimes, that was detrimental to his sleep schedule, nonexistent as it was, and he was ashamed of the amount of times he'd pissed in an empty bucket or bottle in the lab just so he wouldn't have to spend the time to walk to the bathroom on the other side of the house. That habit died as soon as Morty moved in with him, though.

Nevertheless, it was now bedtime, and Rick quietly opened the bedroom door and entered. The dim room was warm and quiet, a nice place to relax and get some rest after an extended day of tinkering.

Rick's icy eyes followed the ladder a few feet away up the wall and traced the frame of the loft bed anchored above his own. Morty was up there, sleeping, and Rick was too curious for his own good. Cautiously, he stepped forward, toed off his shoes, then climbed the metal ladder. He just wanted to check on the boy. He wanted to make sure he was sleeping comfortably. Even though he had only seen him a few hours before, he just wanted to look upon the boy's face again. It still thrilled him every day to have his own little Morty companion now. The kid made him so damn happy.

Rick emerged at the top of the ladder and peeked over the mattress. There he was. Morty. Sleeping peacefully on his side above the covers, one wing slightly out on the bed behind himself, the other curled partially over his side; he looked so small in the middle of that big, king-sized bed.

Rick swore his own heart cooed out an "awww" with such a vision.

Unable to see the boy's face, however, Rick dared to crawl onto the spongy mattress, moving slowly so as not to disturb the sleeping boy. He creeped closer until he finally saw what he'd been searching for, Morty's cute little face lying against the soft comforter, eyes closed in sweet slumber. His little hands loosely clutched the blanket up near his face, knuckles close to his chin. His slightly parted lips were curled into a soft smile as he breathed deeply in sleep, and Rick just fucking melted at the sight.

The open windows provided enough moonlight to just make out everything, and the fresh summer-time scents of the outside sweetened the moment.

His bones feeling weak and heavy, Rick could not resist the temptation of lying down beside his little Morty, facing him so he could watch the boy sleep for a while. He still, **still** could not believe the kid was his— **his own Morty** , something he thought he could never have a few years ago.

Sometimes, the sight of Morty made his heart ache for his own timeline, knowing there would never be one of those little boys born on his world. But after that initial pain of loss, the sight of Morty would become a comfort, because now he **was** there, providing Rick the companionship he'd always craved, even though he didn't know he had been craving it. A Rick was nothing without a Morty, and boy, did Rick know that to be true.

Timidly—especially for a Rick, and he knew it—the scientist reached a hand out, sliding it across the bed. His fingers hovered over the boy's small cheek, hesitating to actually touch it, worrying the contact might wake him. Unable to resist, however, he tentatively caressed his fingertips around Morty's soft cheek, keeping his touch so light, it felt like a ghost's fingers.

' _He's so fucking perfect...so beautiful..._ ' Rick thought to himself as he watched his digits lightly trace the boy's cheekbone and down along his gently rounded jaw. He stared at Morty's little pink lips and held a finger right before them, feeling the boy's warm, moist breaths slowly puff along it. It was just a confirmation...just another way to reinforce that he was real, and he was there, and he was going to stay.

Rick bit his lip and dared to very, very lightly press a fingertip against Morty's bottom lip, watching the softness of it depress just a tiny bit before he pulled away entirely. What he wouldn't give...to just... He had been so close during their last adventure...so close to pulling that sweet little thing in and...and if it hadn't been for that fucking earthquake that ruined the perfect mood surrounding them in that phosphorescent lichen-encrusted antechamber, things would have turned out very differently that day. He would have drawn him in and kissed that adorable little teenager. He'd have held Morty tight and not let him go. He would have laid him out on those glowing blue lichens and ravaged the boy from top to bottom and wingtip to wingtip.

Gazing upon his little sleeping Morty's face, Rick felt the strong pull of desire grip his chest and squeeze his guts. It lured him in closer, and he leaned up on one elbow, tilting toward that vision that had held his heart captive since he first laid eyes on him. Just...just once...just a little...a tiny, imperceptible peck...that was all he asked...just to placate himself... Just...just a taste...

A soft little sigh cooed out of Morty's faintly parted lips, and he squirmed very slightly in place.

Rick froze, inches away and eyes wide, gulping, his breaths turning deep and shallow in order to keep them as quiet as possible.

The boy hummed and licked his soft lips, then sighed deeply and settled back down in sleep, breaths returning to their slow, deep rhythm.

Rick sucked his lower lip into his mouth and chewed on it, squeezing his eyes tightly as he very carefully backed away and laid back down at a safe distance.

' _No...don't ruin it, Rick,_ ' he scolded himself harshly. ' _You got it fuckin' good, you old asshole. Just because he's had a Rick doesn't mean he'll want you. Chill...chill..._ '

He exhaled slowly and deeply, feeling his body sag down into the soft mattress. Yes, things were so good. So fucking good.

A sense of calmness finally returning to his old bones, Rick smiled wanly, his eyelids drooping as he continued to stare at his precious little winged Morty's slumbering face. He knew he should get up and crawl down into his own bed a few feet below, but he just wanted a few more minutes. Just a few more...just to watch that sweet boy resting comfortably... It was such a beautiful, serene sight...

Something shuffled and pressed into him firmly, and Rick grunted softly, squeezing his eyes tightly for a moment before blinking them open. He felt so tired, like he weighed a thousand pounds, and his eyelids each weighed just as much. His eyes themselves stung and felt itchy in that way that told him he had only gotten a small bit of sleep, and he frowned and closed them again because it felt so much better than keeping them open.

A little sigh sounded from his chest, but the noise was not made by Rick, himself. Movement against him made him grunt softly again, and something warm and small slithered around his side and curled up along his back beneath his lab coat.

Snapping his eyes open, Rick peered down, finding his little Morty curled up against his chest, snuggled in firmly with a contented smile pulling at his lips. One of the boy's arms was hidden under his lab coat, hooked around Rick's side and resting along his back. His other hand was tucked between their bodies, fisting at the old man's teal shirt. One of his wings was curled around Rick's side and draped over him, a warm and pleasant weight. Morty nuzzled his face into the scientist's chest, humming contentedly.

Rick stiffened when he realized what was happening, not prepared to deal with the sudden intimate embrace. Slowly, though, he relaxed into the snuggling boy, truly enjoying the moment. It didn't take long to realize Morty was still sleeping, the scientist noting the little teen had never opened his eyes and was still breathing deeply. So he allowed himself the freedom to wrap an arm across Morty's back, stroking his fingers over the feathers on one wing. It was such a pleasant, warm position, curled up intimately with his little Morty, that he started to drift back off, still so very tired from having stayed up so late.

Just before random, dopey thoughts turned into random trippy dreams, Rick felt and heard Morty mumble against his sternum, " _R-Rick..._ "

The old scientist stiffened, again waking fully. Maybe Morty wasn't asleep after all?

" _Yeah, Morty?_ " he answered quietly, voice gravelly with the grog of sleep.

" _Oh, Rick..._ " the boy moaned airily. His little hand firmly rubbed along Rick's back and up and down his side under the lab coat with long, languid strokes. " _Rick..._ "

Rick swallowed, something hot and tingly instantly stirring in his lower belly. He'd never heard Morty sound like that before...like he was needy and wanting all at once. Biting his lip, he closed his eyes tightly.

Was this happening?

Something stiff nudged against his hip as Morty wiggled tighter against him.

Oh, shit, this was happening!

Unable to resist because, after all, he really wanted it too, Rick stroked Morty's wing tenderly, ruffling his fingers through the feathers with sensual little twists. He whispered huskily, " _Yeah, baby..._ " before kissing the top of the boy's head, nuzzling his nose and lips through the tufty, strand-like feathers there.

Perhaps he had been mistaken? That moment shared in that glowing blue antechamber on their last adventure...maybe it **was** special? Maybe...maybe Morty was just as affected as he had been? Rick couldn't help recalling how the boy had been blushing profusely, how his eyes had held the scientist's own for a lot longer than normal. And...most importantly...how Morty never once tried to escape from that forming intimate moment. He...he looked drawn in as well, hadn't he?

Delicate little fingers brushed lightly against the skin of Rick's waist just under the hem of his shirt, and he shivered with the touch. He felt his pants becoming restricting, the blood rushing south so fast, he felt dizzy and dropped his head against the mattress, groaning softly and closing his eyes.

He'd dreamt of being touched intimately by the boy. He'd imagined it. He wanted it. But he could never press the issue. Now, though, it seemed his little Morty had made the decision for him, and the thrill of it left him licking his lips and shivering in want.

That moment on their last adventure **had** to have meant something, because it seemed like Morty was actually "interested" in him...as evidenced by that insistent rigid poke into Rick's hip.

Morty **wanted** him! Oh, fuck, he really did!

" _Morty..._ " Rick hummed softly, voice a mere exhaled breath. His thin lips slipped down from the boy's feathery hair and pressed light, timid pecks along his forehead. His large hand cupped the back of the boy's head and held it in a gentle grasp, fingers carding into the thick layers of stringy feathers. " _My Morty..._ "

" _Oh, Rick..._ " Morty whined, rubbing his face firmly into Rick's chest and mouthing at the folds of his shirt. " _Rick...I m-missed you so much..._ " he mumbled lethargically.

Rick froze, the heat of his desire evaporating instantly to be replaced with a rush of icy cold. Shit... Shit!... He should have known. Every good feeling he had just been relishing felt flushed down the toilet. He needed to get out of there. Immediately. The feeling of Morty clutching him, his soft little nuzzles and touches, was suddenly making him feel sick.

The boy's intimate embrace wasn't meant for him...was never meant for him...and Rick had been deluded and starstruck enough to actually think he'd had a real chance.

The scientist's shuffles in trying to get up and away woke Morty fully, and the boy looked up at him blearily. "R-Rick?" he asked, confused to see the older man there in bed with him. He looked down, puzzled with what was going on, only to then realize he was clutching to the scientist and there was a small damp spot where he'd drooled against his teal shirt. The feeling of his own hardness lightly brushing Rick's thigh as the old man tried to wiggle away discreetly sent a jolt of shock down Morty's spine, and he pulled away in a panic. "Oh...I-I...I'm so sorry, Rick!"

Rick grunted and finally was able to scoot toward the end of the bed when Morty withdrew completely. "It's fine, Morty," he mumbled, voice carefully monotoned.

"I-I didn't mean to—!"

Rick spun at the edge of the bed and began climbing down the ladder. "F-Forget it, Morty. No big deal."

"Rick?"

Stopping his descent, his head and shoulders still above the mattress, the scientist looked at Morty blankly. His throat betrayed his hidden apprehension, however, the adam's apple bobbing with a heavy swallow. The sight of Morty, kneeling in the middle of the large bed, clothes rumpled and wings haloing his small body...he looked fucking angelic.

And Rick thought...he **stupidly** thought that little angel wanted him. He was disgusted with himself.

"Why...why were you up here?" Morty asked, voice small and curious.

Rick had to look away from him, staring at the bed instead. The vision of him was just too much for the old man to handle currently. "I was just... I wanted to check on you...see if you were...comfortable..." He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Guess I made the damn thing **too** comfortable... Fell asleep. S-Sorry I bothered you, Morty." Without another word or moment of hesitation, he climbed the rest of the way down. On the floor, he turned and quickly headed for the bedroom door, no longer interested in sleeping in that room tonight.

"Rick?..."

Morty's small voice stopped him again, in the doorway. Rick looked back up, swallowing, unprepared for what met his eyes. In the dimness of the pre-dawn, he saw his little Morty, kneeling at the edge of the loft bed, staring down at him worriedly. His feathery hair was fluffed and slightly askew, his wings haloed his body again, spread a bit to keep his balance at the end of the bed, and his yellow pajamas were still rumpled like he'd just been fooling around with someone. Technically, he'd just been coming on to Rick, but Rick knew the reality of the situation was far from that wishful thinking.

"You...y-you... I-I wasn't bothered, Rick..."

Rick stared up at him for a moment, watching Morty smile sweetly, if not overtly nervous about what his reaction might be. Was it meant to be an "I'm sorry"? Or was it more of a "I didn't mind that you were sleeping with me"? Or perhaps it was more along the lines of "I didn't mind pretending you were my original Rick and getting off to it".

Rick grit his teeth but managed to give Morty a small smile in return. "N-'Night, Morty." Turning, he finally left, closing the door quietly.

Morty sniffled and turned away, crawling back to the middle of the bed, his wings dragging alongside himself dejectedly. He flopped down amongst the blankets and pillows on his stomach and scooped them in close around his face, inhaling the light scent of Rick that had embedded itself from his brief stay. Tears formed in his eyes, and he squeezed the cloth tightly against his chest, nose, and mouth. He prayed he hadn't fucked things up royally with Rick. It wasn't his fault for swaying in and out of a dream where he was in the loving embrace of the original, only to wake up in the embrace of the new. He was disgusted with himself, realizing he'd forced himself onto the old man in his sleep. How could he look Rick in the eye tomorrow?

But at the same time... He felt the lingering tingle of touches along his wing, of lips in his hair and on his forehead, of an arm wrapped around him, cradling him against a warm, inviting body. Those were not part of his dream. And even though it was probably just Morty's imagination that Rick had enjoyed being snuggled up to, he allowed himself to indulge in that fantasy. It had to mean something, right? The feeling of Rick holding him and touching him...even phantom kisses that he swore the old man gave to him. It had felt so real...so right......just like on their last adventure...when Rick had curled his long fingers into Morty's hair and gently held the back of his head, staring into his eyes imploringly. All that beautiful blue lichen light had cast the old man in lovely shades that accentuated every handsome plane of his face and big, strong body. Morty had looked at Rick before, seen his attractiveness—a feature he'd noticed with all Ricks...but in that soft, quiet...intimate moment...his Rick looked downright gorgeous...and he had been weak in the knees at that sight.

The scent of the old scientist lingered in his nostrils—burning electronics, motor oil, and cedar, a fragrance unique to that particular Rick—and Morty inhaled deeply again, moaning softly and reaching down to lightly stroke himself over his pajama bottoms.

" _Rick..._ " he whined softly, keeping his voice so low, he barely heard it, muffled through the blankets.

He imagined the old man's gentle hands stroking his wings, his feathered hair, his face. He recalled the way Rick would curl his fingers around his little ear, that habit of his where he'd just lightly brush it as he pulled his hand away from petting his head. The way those calloused digits would tickle his skin as they withdrew now had him shivering and clutching the bed, thrusting down into it with needy jerks of his hips.

It had been a long time since he played with himself. He hadn't done it since before he was adopted because he was a little paranoid about being caught doing it, seeing as he and Rick shared the same bedroom. But now, Morty was eagerly ready to go, lured into the mood from a soft-core dream about his original, and waking up with the phantom kisses and touches of his new Rick. Fuck, they had felt so real...and so good...so alluring... His Rick...the comforting smell of him still in the blankets—now a scent that stirred tingling desire in the pit of the boy's stomach...the warmth that he radiated...the man's sheer presence when he was close by...

No thoughts of his original floated through his head as Morty huffed and shakily rolled half onto his side, making just enough room to shove a hand down into his pants and grasp his leaking erection. The only images pouring through his mind were of the Rick he had woken up next to, the Rick he now lived with, the Rick he now appreciated and cared for so much. He would be dead now if it hadn't been for Rick, sacrificing his safety to protect him on their last adventure, shielding him with his large, sturdy body. No...before even that...he would still be locked in a cage had that old man not come along to unlock the bars, lift him out in gentle, cupped hands, and opened them toward to sky to set him free.

Morty gasped pathetically into the blankets, stroking himself rapidly. On each upstroke, he smeared more pre-cum onto his palm and coated his length with it on every downstroke.

" _Hahh...R-Rick..._ " he moaned, biting his lip to keep quiet.

He imagined the man that was so much larger than even his original, towering over him. Only instead of acting as a barrier to danger, he would be insulating their heat between them, pressed close and kissing Morty's skin...stroking him with his oh-so gentle hands. Oh, those fucking wonderful hands of his!

Huffing, Morty rolled more onto his back and used his other hand to shove his pants and underwear down enough to free his pulsing, leaking erection, still rapidly stroking it with his other fist. He tucked the waistbands down beneath his pudgy sack of skin, putting firm, pleasant pressure against his perineum and pressing his balls upward so that each time the edge of his hand stroked down, it bumped against them solidly. His now free hand cupped the head of his dripping length, palm smearing through the pre, and massaging it just the way he knew he liked.

" _Oh, fuck, Rick, yes... Touch me...t-touch me..._ " he whispered, stiffening and jacking off frantically in those last few seconds of building tension.

He never imagined thinking of his new Rick while masturbating would get him off so quickly.

His vision of the dim room swam, and he arched elegantly into his own intimate embrace, his wings spreading out beneath him along the covers and feathers rustling as they shook with his strong orgasm. He caught the hot, sticky load in his palm, gasping and whining while he milked his own self, pretending his hands were someone else's. He forced himself to endure the pleasant torture that had his heart pounding and sweat trickling down his temples and dampening his clothes, imagining that that would be what Rick would do to him—drag out his pleasure for as long as possible, forcing him to arch and cry out. Morty did his absolute best to stay quiet, though, only huffing breaths and low whines escaping his dry throat.

Finally, he came down, flopping limply on the bed and gasping deeply for oxygen. He'd made a bit of a mess in his hand and some of it oozed along his groin. It felt wet and warm and a little gross, but at the same time, he found it to be so erotic, imagining that Rick had made him make that mess.

Oh, fuck...Rick...and his huge, but oh-so-gentle hands... Oh, those fucking hands... And his scent—a smell that lacked that pungent aroma of hard liquor that clung to every other Rick he'd gotten close enough to sniff... His gruff but kind voice... His smiles, his deep chuckles, those handsome crow's feet at the edges of his happy eyes...thin lips that freely gave praise and hardly ever admonished, even when Morty screwed something up...the warmth of the old man's body when Morty clung to him for a free ride, and never once did Rick complain...the general way in which he treated Morty **so** well...and...oh, yeah...his amazing...oh-so- **fucking** - **gentle** hands...

Morty sighed, squishing his sloppy palm against the head of his softening cock, giving himself a little shiver.

It was not the beginning of the deep, warm feelings that Morty felt for that old scientist...but it was definitely the beginning of a heat that was setting his soul on fire. It was as if there had been embers glowing in his heart ever since he met Rick of dimension S-322. And now, waking up in his embrace and smelling him so close and remembering all those sweet, tender moments and touches, and the way they made his chest hum so warmly and stomach flutter with nerves and giddiness... It was as if Rick leaned in close, smiled warmly, and blew a steady breath onto those embers, igniting Morty's heart fully ablaze.

Now completely aware of how smitten he had become with that old man, Morty sighed and sagged, smiling dopily at the dark ceiling above his bed. He had sort of known before—it was an inkling in the back of his mind...most especially after that blue lichen glow highlighted just how fucking handsome that old man was. But after realizing how good it had been to wake up in Rick's arms—feel his heat, his lanky limbs wrapped around him, his lingering touches... It had been a genuine wake-up call.

With a few soft grunts, Morty wiggled and maneuvered on his back as carefully as he could, then used his wing to reach the rest of the distance to scoop the box of tissues off of the shelf that also served as his headboard. He used several to clean himself up, then rearranged his clothes and placed the box back on the shelf next to the digital clock and small lamp there.

Sighing deeply, Morty collapsed back to the mattress and drew a blanket up around his body, rolling over and wrapping up like a burrito. After such a satisfying wank and fully realizing his feelings regarding his new Rick, the winged boy fell back into a deep sleep with a smile on his face.

He'd worry about how to act around the old man tomorrow.

Rick stormed through his house and into his lab, barking an order to seal the door to the kitchen in order to ensure his seclusion. He wandered over to his workbench and leaned against it, hanging his head. His shoulders shook with insurmountable tension, his elbows locked and stance rigid. He held that pose for as long as he could, trying to breathe, trying to search for a calmness that eluded him. Usually, he was good at simmering down from being angry or upset, but that time...that time...

"Rauggh!" Rick roared, slamming his fists down to the bench, rattling the contents so badly, several items toppled over, and a few even clattered to the concrete floor. "Fucking damn it! Fuck!"

He knew the issue wouldn't go away so quickly. He knew Morty had been head over heels in love with his first Rick. But being mistaken for the original hurt a lot more than Rick figured it should.

He had so been enjoying lying there with Morty. Nothing had to happen— _he wished that it would_... He was content where he was— _such a fucking lie_... But when Morty subtly came onto him, nuzzling and touching and softly grinding his erection into Rick's hipbone, Rick could not have said no—would have never, ever refused. He already liked the little guy, already found him sweet, adorable, enchanting, **arousing**.

He really thought he had a chance. He really did. But it was the original Morty had been dreaming of, the original that he wanted...the original's name he was moaning, not Rick's own...even though they were essentially the same person. They were still worlds...dimensions...evolutionary chains...different. They were the same person, but absolutely not at the same time.

"Fuck! Shit!" Rick growled and stomped around in an agitated circle in his work area.

All he could think was of how frustrated he was with Morty's hang-up on his original, but all he could feel was a deep longing to direct the boy's attention away from the past and put it on himself. He wanted to hold the boy the way he deserved to be held, kiss him until he was breathless, touch his sleek body until he was covered in sweat, tease along his little cock until it was straining and dripping.

"Arrghh..." Rick growled, palming his own straining erection through his trousers.

His body still hummed with the boy's touch, the feel of his arm wrapped around his back, his face nuzzled into his chest, his big fluffy wing draped down his side. He still felt the warmth of his little body and the softness of his feathers between his fingers and beneath his lips.

Rick ground his palm into his crotch, groaning and trembling on knobby knees. He had already been attracted to Morty, ever since he laid eyes on the boy on the Citadel, and steadily more and more as time went on... But now he fucking **wanted** him. His cock was hard enough to cut glass, and he couldn't remember the last time he'd been so aroused that it felt like electricity in his veins and fire in his loins. He panted with that need and braced himself against the worktable, knees weak.

A cold shower. He needed a cold shower immediately.

"Dammit," he cursed, gritting his teeth. His bathroom was on the other side of his bedroom, and he refused to go back in there tonight. What if Morty was still awake and saw him? What if he ended up masturbating in the shower, thinking of the boy right on the other side of the wall, and the teen heard him? He would rather die than be seen as so pathetic by the kid.

Rick's eyes darted to the door to the stairwell that led to his sub lab. There was the bathroom down there, he realized, the one he created for Morty. He could use that. Quickly, he strode over and descended the stairs to the next level and made his way into the huge bathroom there. He barked another order to seal the door and it did so behind him as he stripped his clothes off with haste. He practically hopped into the water, splashing it around his form as he submerged into the warmth.

Sighing, Rick sat on the underwater bench seat that wrapped around the tub and leaned his elbows back against the floor. Maybe he'd just sit there for a while and soak, the warm water already doing much to settle his nerves. He'd done a really good job on that tub, he realized, admiring his work. Morty surely appreciated it too, wanting to bathe in it nearly every night before bed.

Rick stared lazily at the ceiling, reclining in the bath. He recalled the day he built the room, the second day of Morty's trial visit. The poor boy was so riddled with bugs, they could have spent all day preening his feathers and not gotten them all. So Rick had built the kid that room and that huge tub and even put elaborate controls in it to give him an even better experience.

The memory of turning on the security feed and watching Morty bathe for the first time resurfaced, then. He was so cute, the way he'd splash his wings about and giggle...and he was so sexy too, with his sleek body, pale peach skin, and delicate mannerisms. He would arch his back, stretch his arms as he washed them, lift each leg out of the water and run his little fingers over the slender thighs and calves and cute little elongated toes.

Groaning, Rick sank further down into the water and laid his head against the floor at the edge of the tub. That heated arousal that had turned into a low-burn simmer as soon as he sank into the water sparked anew, the fire of it heating his veins and tingling in his hands and belly.

"Fuck...shit..." he whined, closing his eyes and digging the back of his skull against the floor. His long fingers found his erection in the water and curled around it tightly, squeezing hard in a bid to calm himself. The grip only made him shiver with want, so he gave in and fingered languidly along his thickness. Who was he to deny himself what he wanted anyway?

Visions of the sweet little winged Morty filled Rick's head, and he groaned as he rubbed himself to them. Morty's smiling face, tilted up to him; Morty running toward him with a grin and holding something Rick had asked for; Morty gazing deeply into his eyes with a blush on his face, highlighted by pale blue light; Morty curled up on his side, sleeping peacefully and breathing deeply through pretty little pink lips...Morty...Morty...

"...M-Morty..." Rick moaned deeply, increasing the pace on himself a bit.

He imagined those perfect little lips nibbling along his chest and down his stomach. Morty would look up at him with his big round eyes, brows upturned innocently, and then lewdly pry his belt open with his teeth. Then the little teen would expose him slowly, breathing hot and heavy down his throbbing shaft, and lick a hot stripe up to the tip, closing those sweet pink lips around it and suckle on the pre-cum that had been beading there, just like he suckled on the tip of his finger a while back to taste some healing tree sap.

"Ugn fuck...yeah..." Rick huffed, squeezing his length with one hand and teasing the slit in the tip with a finger from his other. "Sweet Morty..."

His mind wandered from that fantasy and drifted back to a short while ago, when the little teen had been wrapped around him and nuzzling him. He drew on that real memory, feeling the heat of the kid's body, his little hands holding and stroking him, his little face nosing into his chest, the kid's beautiful wing draped along his side and down his long legs...and the teen's hard dick jabbing into his hip. Rick ran with that, imagining reaching down and stroking Morty through his soft pajamas, feeling every ridge of his erection through the lightweight fabric, watching the stretchiness of it wrap the bulge and outline it perfectly. It probably wouldn't be very large, seeing as how Morty was so much smaller physically, but it would still make Rick's mouth water.

Rick's mouth **was** watering, and he swallowed and licked his lips. How he'd love to get a taste of that boy's flavor. He'd suckle the kid down to the root, lick from under his balls up to the tip and slurp it back down again. He could only imagine what Morty would sound like, what it would be like to hear his gasps and moans resonating off the bedroom walls. It would be like music, Rick figured, a sweet song that Morty would sing, just for him.

With a grunt, Rick released himself and hauled his body up out of the water. He sat on the edge of the tub and leaned his back against the shelf of towels and hygiene products, dangling his legs from the knee down in the water. It wasn't very comfortable, but neither was trying to jerk off underwater. H₂O was not a good lubrication, and his dick was getting irritated by the hard drag of his palm. He found some soft-smelling lotion and squirted a generous glob onto his hand. It seemed to be the same stuff Morty liked to use, because it smelled like him. It only made things that much more erotic to Rick, and his long, thick arousal throbbed hard when he smeared the substance along the shaft slowly, teasingly.

"Fuck yeah," he breathed, Morty's fragrance filling his nostrils and making his head spin with desire. Oh, that was so much better! He moaned long and low, the slick sounds of his hand pleasuring himself echoing off the smooth walls of the large bathroom.

Back at it again, Rick closed his eyes and pictured his sweet little Morty grinding against him, whining, needy, begging. His need for the teenager was in full swing. It was no longer an idle interest, something he considered and hoped for, but didn't actually see happening, at least any time soon. It was now full-blown lust for that beautiful winged boy, a heady desire that could not be denied. All it had taken was a few needy caresses and a couple nudges of the boy's arousal against his hip, and Rick was gone. And he had been such a good boy so far, keeping his hands and desires to himself...it felt like he had fallen off of some sort of denial wagon—denial of what he really wanted.

And what he really wanted was to give Morty as much pleasure as he could muster. He wanted to smother the boy in praises and lick every square inch of his small, delicate body. He wanted to stroke his beautiful wings while he fucked the teenager breathless. His ears burned to hear Morty's whines of pleasure. His throat constricted as he grit his teeth with the stark need to hold the boy's frail naked body against his own as he thrust into it mercilessly.

"Morty...fuck, Morty..." he moaned, his slick hand dancing along his cock. "Want you, Morty...fucking want you..." he gasped, reaching down with his other hand to cup and squeeze gently at his balls.

" _Hoohh...Rick..._ " Morty's disembodied voice echoed around his skull, partially pulled from the memory of the kid moaning his name while half asleep a while ago, and partially embellished upon to make it sound breathy and wanton.

"Yeah, baby..." Rick answered his fantasy, loosing himself in the moment, drowning in lust and want. "I got you, baby... Let Rick make it all better..."

" _Rick...oh, Rick..._ " fantasy Morty moaned in the space between his ears. The image of him curled up beneath Rick and bouncing up and down along the mattress while the scientist was burying his cock between soft little butt cheeks was projected onto the inside of his eyelids.

"That's it, Morty," he groaned, stroking himself swiftly with an ever-tightening fist, rapidly approaching climax with such visions swimming in his head. "Take my cock, baby. Fuck yes..."

" _Rick..._ " Morty whined in his head, tears pricking his eyes with the sheer speed at which he was being fucked into the mattress, following the speed of Rick's hand on himself. His wings were spread out beneath him, feathers splayed and curling up toward Rick as the fantasy Morty reached up with his arms. Delicate little hands ghosted along Rick's cheeks when he threw his head back and gasped loudly in the bathroom. His inner vision gazed down at that precious little creature entwined with him, and he watched those luscious pink lips part.

Rick wanted a cooing moan to fall out of that delicate mouth, but instead, just as he approached the cusp of orgasm, the little Morty in his head whined out, " _Oh, Rick...I missed you so much..._ "

Icy grey eyes shot open and Rick roared in frustration, the sound terrifying as it bounced around the smooth bathroom walls like a beast had been unleashed. "No! No! He should be mine! He should fucking be mine!" he shouted, his sensual self-play session turning into an angry beating of his meat as he fisted himself hard and slammed his hand along his length at breakneck speed, trying to keep the pleasure going enough to come. "You're dead, you piece of shit! So stay dead and let him go! Let me have him!" He threw his head against the shelf and swiped an arm back to press his palm against the wall, knocking bottles of products all over the floor with a loud clamor. "Morty!" he yelled, a whine in his voice that spoke of longing ache. "I'm here for you now, Morty! Let me have you! Baby, let your Rick have you!" He sobbed out a loud moan and shuddered in his own grip, his lean back arching over the shelf and feet lifting out of the water to brace themselves at the edge of the tub, legs spread wide, toes curling.

"Morty! Muh-huh-hortyyy!" he cried, stiffening so hard, his spine groaned and his joints ached.

His orgasm was angry and throbbing, his flesh pulsing in his fist as he emptied his frustrations all over his chest and stomach. Each wave of what was supposed to be pleasure but felt more like peals of agony made Rick shudder and twitch, grunting and hissing.

Collapsing a moment later, he panted and shivered, drenched in sweat and muscles aching. He had never had a better and at the same time worse masturbation session as just then. He had worked himself up into a frenzy over that adorable little Morty upstairs. He'd never felt so conflicted over one person in his long life filled with storied love affairs.

It was all because of that fucking dead Rick. Morty's original. The Rick that the boy called to in his sleep, that he probably still longed for during the day. If only he could make the boy forget that bastard ever existed, he'd have a much better chance to be the one the kid wanted instead.

Rick shook his head and cupped it in a shaking hand. No, he couldn't do that to Morty. Even though he had just then thought up designs for a device that could remove memories and store them in vials so that they wouldn't be permanently deleted, it would still be cruel of him to do it. What if Morty found out, or found the vial and plugged his memories back in? Any future chances he'd have with the teenager would be eliminated on the spot. Morty would hate him, resent him for taking away his original like that. No, Rick couldn't do it.

A high whine left his tensed and aching throat unbidden, and he wiped his shaking hand down over his face. It came away wet, and his eyes were burning. Shit, he was fucking weak. So weak to fall victim to that reviled emotion that all Ricks denied and called a simple compulsion for animals to breed. He hated himself for not being able to deny his own feelings the way most Ricks did. He was too soft to disconnect from his heart, to disassociate himself from others that he'd already built connections to.

In fact, if he hadn't been forced to leave Earth in order to protect his small family from the Galactic Federation after he got into some hot water with them, he would still be with his wife to that day. He had done everything in his power to make sure that he could return home as soon as possible, but when it was finally safe enough for him to do so, it was years later...and she was already gone... So he reconnected with Beth, his beautiful daughter, only to discover that by that point, he would have had a grandchild...only Jerry had convinced her to take an alternate path.

Rick had been livid. He felt denied the opportunity to have another member in the family, a cute little grandkid to spoil and take out for ice cream and show the wonders of the multiverse. Beth had called him selfish. He threw the insult right back at her. Their already strained relationship crumbled, and Beth demanded he leave. So he did. And he never went back.

Rick liked Earth, though. It was his home planet, after all. Many parts sucked, but many other parts were great. So he stayed, found a nice secluded spot, and set up a permanent home. Over the years, he stayed off to himself, going out only when needed, only keeping people as acquaintances and not letting them get any closer for fear of attachment.

He watched Beth secretly and from afar, keeping tabs on her career as a surgeon and her life as a lonely woman who would get drunk on wine and talk to her pet birds. He missed her. But he never forgave her...especially after learning of a second grandchild he could have had, one that was supposed to be his personal companion for adventures and a little helper in the lab.

A sob left Rick's aching throat, and he covered his eyes with a hand, gripping his fingers into his face and grimacing.

' _Stupid old weak bastard..._ ' he admonished himself, slouching against the shelf and letting his feet slide back into the water limply. The warmth sent a shiver up his spine.

He needed to stop, to calm down and regain his bearings. Those days were over. Now, he **had** a Morty, one that was his permanently. No more lonely solo adventures. No more inventing by himself without any help in the lab. He now had a little buddy that was eager to please and more than willing to beam bright smiles his way.

Rick took a deep, slow breath, and eased it back out through slightly parted lips.

There was no need to be sad anymore. He should be happy. He had what he'd been wanting ever since he discovered it existed. He should be content with that.

And he was.

The tension and frustration now out of his system, Rick could think clearer. He scolded himself for jumping to conclusions with Morty earlier, and for pining for the kid when he knew things were a lot more complicated. He decided to let things be as they were and not pursue anything further. If anything was going to happen between them, then it would do so organically. Rick would not press the issue.

With another deep sigh, the scientist wiped the rest of the tears off his face and scooted back down into the water. He washed with purpose, getting rid of any evidence of his unbidden lust, then exited the huge tub. He noticed the pile of towels on the shelf were already a bit damp, and he frowned at the inconvenience. An idea struck instantly, one that would not only solve his drying problems, but would also be a benefit to Morty.

Dripping wet and naked, he exited the room but came back a minute later with arms full of tools and mechanical supplies. It took only a few minutes for Rick to create and install several heated blow dryers along the wall near the door, and he tested them on himself. Warm air blew all over his body, from head to toe, drying him quickly, and he walked back and forth along the span of the dryers to make sure they covered enough room to dry Morty's wings. Satisfied with the results, he turned them off with a tap to a new control panel by the door, and they slid into the wall to be hidden behind smooth panels.

Rick took one more moment to head over and replace the bottles he had knocked over hastily in his mad scramble for release, then gathered his clothes and left.

He couldn't sleep right away, so he just fiddled around in his lab until his eyelids grew so heavy, he slumped at the bench and filled the room with his soft snores.

After the sun came up an hour or so later, and for every subsequent day afterward, Morty and Rick kept their feelings for each other to themselves.

Morty, afraid of alienating his new Rick any further than he had after coming on to him while half asleep, never brought the incident up again. He knew he had fallen for Rick S-322. His own feelings were quite clear. After ruminating on the way the man had so quickly struggled to get away from him that night, however, Morty couldn't bring himself to admit how he felt aloud.

His behavior did not change around Rick, though. He still helped out with his experiments and assisted with retrieving tools for when the scientist created inventions. They continued to go out on adventures every so often, about twice a week, give or take, depending on what Rick needed or wanted to stock up on at the time. And Morty would still hop up and ride on Rick's back whenever the opportunity arose. Because every time he did, Rick would look over his shoulder at him with a warm smile and reach back to stroke at his feathery hair like everything was right in the world.

And everything **was** right. Things were **fine**.

That was what Rick kept telling himself, over and over, every day. From when he woke to when he laid down to sleep, he would tell himself that everything was perfect. He was happy with his new Morty, with the relationship that they had and the companionship the boy provided. He could deal with the occasional uncomfortable erection that would spring up when Morty would lean over his shoulder, resting his chin there lightly to watch him work. He could deal with his heart skipping beats every time the kid's sweet laughter rang in his old ears. He could handle the long nights when he sat alone in his lab while Morty slept, eyesight becoming foggy with unshed tears while his entire body quaked with an ache that left him weak and listless...an ache to hold that winged boy tight and kiss him breathless.

It was nights like that when he would fall off the wagon and be driven to drink heavily, until he worked up enough liquid courage to rise up and portal to a random brothel to relieve his needs for hours at a time. Rick would hobble back home, then, hungover and stumbling, only to come face-to-face with the very person that drove him out to begin with. Morty would give him that wide-eyed, worried expression, ask where he had been, what he was doing. Rick would just wave him off, swaying on his feet, and attempt to stagger to the bedroom in need of a full day's sleep.

He would only make it to the room half of the time. The other half would end up with Morty, fretting over his unconscious body after he collapsed in the living room or kitchen. The boy was too small and weak to be able to lift Rick's weight or even drag him anywhere. The best he could do was push him onto his side into the recovery position. Even that wasn't exactly easy when he only weighed fifty-two pounds with hollow bones.

Morty hated it when Rick drank. He hated it when his original Rick drank too, but the way his new Rick used alcohol to deal with whatever problems he was having was painful to watch. The boy could tell there was something Rick was keeping hidden inside himself, something that was tearing him apart slowly.

Things had been fine for a while when he was first adopted and brought to live with Rick. The old man was actually more sober than not usually—so much so that his natural aroma did not include liquor the way most Ricks' scents did. But after that one night...after Morty woke up in his arms thinking the old man was his original...that was when things changed.

Every time Rick drank, Morty would blame himself. Every time Rick disappeared for hours only to come home hungover and smelling of sex and booze, Morty would hate himself a little more. The nights he had cried himself to sleep were starting to accumulate, and he had naïvely thought those days were over.

Regret hung heavily over Morty's head. Regret for what he'd done that night. Even though he hadn't been aware of his actions, he still blamed himself for the odd sort of fallout happening because of them. His feelings for Rick, though, feelings that had started from a bud and bloomed fully that night, never withered. He couldn't bring himself to regret how he felt. It was just that the circumstances surrounding that night were total shit, and he didn't know what to do about it anymore.

Morty pressed on every day, though, and so did Rick. They continued to dance around each other and around the underlying issue between them, pretending it wasn't there, but both knowing the tension was drawing tighter. It was only a matter of time now, before that tension either snapped...or choked them both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gotta put that drama in there somewhere. XD Please don't hate me. LOL


	11. Near Miss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Normally, I try to post new chapters on Fridays, but a family emergency has come up, and I may not be able to post tomorrow (Friday). So I decided to update a day early instead. I figured no one would mind. ;)

"Morty! Hey, Morty!" Rick called across the backyard, one hand cupped around his mouth to help his voice carry farther. The harsh rays of the sun scalded his eyes when he looked upward into the sky, so he moved his hand to shield them against the intense brightness.

Far up above, Morty was darting through the air with skill and grace, diving through huge levitating hoops that Rick had invented for him to practice his aerial skills. They gave him a great way to exercise and develop new aerobatic techniques that would hopefully help on future adventures. Plus, they were just fun to play with. The floating hoops could change position and even act as moving targets for Morty to aim for and dive through. It was great training.

"Mooorrrtyyy!" Rick called, louder. He made a mental note to install speakers on those hoops. Or better yet, a two-way communications watch for Morty to wear at all times. The kid was his permanent companion now, so he should probably get fully equipped with the good shit. It was way overdue.

Darting through one last hoop, Morty then turned and hovered there, flapping his wings rapidly to stay aloft. He heard a distant call and saw a small figure standing on the back lawn, and realized that Rick was trying to get his attention. Worried he was in trouble for something, Morty soared downward, circling the yard a few times until he came in low enough to swing his legs forward and flap hard to slow his descent. He landed into a trot then came to a halt a few feet away from Rick, bending over and propping his hands to his knees, panting hard. Sweat dripped off of his face and dampened his clothes, making them stick to his small, lean frame.

Rick swallowed at the sight and cleared his throat, pushing up one sleeve to check his watch like he was concerned with the time suddenly.

"S-Sorry, Rick..." Morty huffed, standing fully again and wiping at his forehead. "I hope you weren't calling too long. I-It's hard to hear up there."

Rick smiled at him, unable to pretend to be irritated with the kid. "It's fine, Morty. I already thought of a couple ideas to fix that. In the meantime, I-I need you for an adventure."

Morty beamed a big smile up at him, and Rick's heart skipped two beats. "Sure, Rick! Where are we going today?"

"I-I'll tell you on the way. Go get a quick snack, I'm not sure how long it's gonna take. And you'll need refueled after all those acrobatics you were pulling off."

Morty grinned even more. "Did you see me, Rick? I-I almost got a barrel roll down!"

Rick chuckled lightly and turned, ushering the sweaty boy toward the house. "Morty, Morty... What you were doing was actually called an aileron roll. You were spinning kinda like a drill, not tumbling end over end."

"Wow, really, Rick? Geez, you know a lot about that stuff too, huh?"

"Duh, Morty. Smartest guy in the universe talking."

"Ha-ha-ha!"

"S-So where are we off to, Rick?" Morty asked as the super scientist fiddled with his portal gun, setting the proper coordinates.

"It's a planet in the Dodongo Cluster, Morty. Nice place. Lush, but also developed in many areas. The entire world is ruled by a monarchy, Morty. A king and queen, that kinda thing," Rick explained. He finally set the coordinates but held the gun down, not using it yet. "Now listen, Morty, this is really important."

The boy nodded, staring up at him and listening intently.

"The king and queen of that planet, they-uh...have a daughter, Morty. Reaaal sweet, sexy thing, Morty. A real princess. Now, uh...I kinda maybe 'dated' her a long time ago," Rick explained, nervously scratching at the back of his neck and glancing off to the side. "Buuuut that princess also had a reaaally valuable gemstone, Morty. Super rare, Morty. One of a kind. And I kinda needed it for an invention I was working on at the time..."

"Oh..." Morty spoke up suddenly, his lips quirking in an odd way that said he couldn't quite decide if he wanted to smile or frown. "Oh, I get it..."

Rick rolled his eyes as he drawled out, "Yeeeaaah... Needless to say, Morty, I barely got out of there alive, and I'm not exactly welcome back either. So this adventure's gonna be a bit different than the norm. We gotta be real quiet, real sneaky." He bent over and held his arms out, darting his eyes back and forth on high alert to illustrate. "If those guards catch me on that planet again, it's not gonna be pretty, Morty."

"But why do we need to go there, Rick? Didn't you already get that gem or whatever a long time ago?" Morty asked, his feathers rustling nervously.

Rick nodded, standing back up again and turning the portal gun around in his hands, inspecting it. "Yeah, but that planet is also known for some other valuable resources, kid. Namely, these giant spherical geodes that are about five feet in diameter," he explained, holding his arms out to illustrate the size to his small companion. "They're always the same size, but inside, that's where the magic is, Morty." Rick leaned closer, his eyes shining with mischievous mirth. "Inside those geodes grows anywhere from five to sixteen different types of super rare crystals, each with their own special and valuable properties. I got a buyer for a couple of those types of crystals, Morty, and the rest I get to keep for myself. All we gotta do, is hop through a portal into the quarry where they mine out those geodes, roll a few of those bad boys back through to the storage level of the lab, then pop back home in time for dinner, Morty. Easy peasy. We just gotta make sure we're not spotted, and we're home free."

"Aw geez, Rick. I guess so," Morty assented, holding one forearm and shrugging his shoulders.

Rick bit his lip, noting how nervous the boy seemed. It really was a different adventure than all the others they'd gone on so far. Most of their adventures had been simple gathering trips to add to Rick's stockpile of supplies. This time, there was actually some danger involved...at least, danger that was predictable from the start. That earthquake-ridden, rocky cave planet was a rarity amongst their many adventures so far, and although Rick never wanted to direct Morty into harm's way again, things should be fine on their new adventure as long as they weren't spotted. And the old scientist figured his plan was safe enough to warrant bringing his little Morty with him. Besides, he could use an extra set of hands to roll those geode balls through portals to send them back home. It would make things go much faster, and, thereby, minimizing the danger.

"Don-Don't worry, Morty," Rick piped, waving a hand noncommittally. "Tell you what, when we get back, I'll make whatever dinner you want, **and** you can have whatever you want for desert too. How does that sound?"

Morty's eyes lit up like the Fourth of July. "Really, Rick?! Anything I want?"

The old scientist chuckled and nodded, propping his hands to his hips and standing tall. "Sure, Morty. Promise."

"Yeah, let's do this!" the suddenly enthusiastic teen yelled, thrusting a fist into the air determinedly.

Rick laughed louder and turned, aiming the portal gun at the closed garage door and firing. The swirling green vortex bloomed to life against the ridged surface, and Morty hooted as they both approached, eager for dinner and desert that night.

It was supposed to be simple. They just had to stay out of sight, stay quiet. All they had to do was get those big geode balls and then they could go home for some delicious dinner and desert. But, of course, things never went easy during classic Rick and Morty adventures.

They had portaled to the planet during nighttime, and everything had been going smoothly. In fact, everything had been perfect up until they rolled the last of the huge geode balls through a portal, sending it and about a dozen others back home into a storage level of Rick's sub-lab. They turned to each other when the swirling green vortex winked closed and gave each other the thumb's up, huge grins on their faces.

That was when they heard the startled shout of a guard and spun to see a group of five large aliens—purplish skin, hulking, brutish, with lots of layered, spiked armor—barreling toward them, weapons at the ready.

It was neither of their fault. They had been perfectly discreet in their plundering of the freshly mined geodes. It was just a matter of poor circumstance and patterns of the guard's patrols.

Regardless, they were now running at breakneck speed through the quarry, pursued by an ever-increasing amount of guards as more and more backup arrived. Hot beams of laser blasts sliced through the air around their retreating bodies, singeing the atmosphere and filling their nostrils with the burning smell of ozone.

Rick cursed loudly and fumbled with his portal gun, each step jostling his fingers on the dial and thwarting his attempts to reset the coordinates for home. After two more failed attempts to land on the correct destination, he settled on picking anywhere that had breathable oxygen and a stable gravitational pull.

While the aggravated scientist struggled to even set the portal gun to anywhere habitable, laser blasts continued to shriek past his and Morty's bodies. The guards were getting closer, their shots getting more precise, and Morty noticed one beam of hot plasma singe a few strands of hair on Rick's head.

The boy's heart skipped a beat, leaving him cold and clammy despite how hot and sweaty he had become from running away from their pursuers. What if Rick got hit? What if Rick died?! That icy feeling in his veins switched in an instant to fire. It was just like that one dangerous adventure...where he nearly lost Rick to falling rocks and an inadvertent skydive. He remembered clearly how desperate he was to save that old man's life, desperate not to lose that man that he'd come to care for so deeply, just like his original...and he'd already lost his original... He couldn't lose another one! He would not let his love of his Ricks become a curse!

Like a nimble but panicked cat-bird, Morty flapped his wings and leapt up onto Rick's back and clung to him tightly. "Keep running!" he shouted over the gunfire and yelling, turning his head to look back over his shoulder at the guards hot on their heels. They looked big and angry and not ready to back down in the slightest until he and Rick were dead or captured...probably dead with how hard they were trying to shoot them.

In a snap decision, Morty cupped his wings into an oval shape, using them as a shield to protect Rick, trying to make him a harder target to hit.

Only now, Morty was a bigger target.

White hot pain exploded against his back, searing right between the base of his wings. But Morty clung even tighter to Rick, gritting his teeth to keep the scream that was trying to erupt from his throat from sounding too loud in the scientist's ear. If he had not been there, that shot would have hit Rick. Morty repeated that to himself over and over, braving through the pain, knowing it was fine as long as Rick was okay.

Another shot hit the meaty part of his right wing, and that new sensation of pain bloomed hotly, so hot that Morty couldn't hold back the screech that tore his vocal chords to shreds. Rick's jostling running made it difficult to hold on with Morty's weakening grip, and the teen fell backward, spreading his wings to try to catch some air to keep from hitting the ground. He ended up flapping wildly and lifting into the air a bit while Rick continued running on, his long legs caught in the momentum of their hasty retreat.

Barely ten feet off the ground, but a suddenly much bigger, slower, and better target to hit, the guards focused their guns on Morty's form, struggling to stay airborne. Laser blasts scorched the air all around him, and one lucky shot tore through the feathers on his left wing, missing the flesh, but blowing a sizable portion of the brown plumage away and filling the air with the smell of burnt hair. Unable to stay aloft, Morty shrieked as he plummeted to the ground, landing hard on his right side. The sickening sound of bones snapping cracked through the dim quarry, echoing off of the rocky walls.

It all happened so fast, Rick only just then managed to skid to a halt and turn around.

Several yards away, two hulking guards stormed up to Morty's petite form on the ground and were reaching down for him. The boy's damaged and haggard left wing and arm were flailing madly, trying to fend off their huge hands while he screamed in terror. The look on his little Morty's face, an expression of wide-eyed fear with a wince of pain making the skin around his eyes crinkle up, sprung Rick into action.

Without even realizing it, he had pulled his plasma pistol and popped off two shots near simultaneously, his aim dead on, blowing both of the guards' brains out. Their grey matter spattered to the ground several seconds before their bodies even teetered and fell, and Rick was already aiming more headshots at the rest of the guards bearing down on him and his little Morty. They all dropped like flies, well away from the kid, and Rick continued firing into the crowd of guards as he ran back to the boy's side. Another few shots had the hulking aliens finally turning around in retreat, and Rick at last had the opportunity to set the coordinates on his portal gun, then quickly grab up Morty's limp, broken little body.

They portaled directly into the second level of Rick's sub-lab, and the scientist immediately carried Morty over to the examination table and began assessing the damage. He moved on autopilot, his actions hurried, but his hands tender where they touched Morty's small, frail body. A quick holographic scan showed the extent of the injuries the boy had suffered—broken ulna and radius of his right wing, a clean break in his right arm, fractured ribs and hip, multiple contusions, bloody burns, missing chunks of feathers—the list went on.

"Shit! Fuck!" Rick swore.

It was worse than that other adventure with the rocky cave planet. One healing candy had been enough to repair the kid's damaged wings and torn muscles and ligaments...but now, the boy was literally broken. No...not just broken...shattered.

A gurgle sounded in Morty's throat, and he wheezed, struggling to breathe.

Not wasting another precious second, Rick dashed over to his supply cabinet and threw the glass doors open. He pulled out a case of blue and green vials, accidentally knocking several beakers off the shelf. He ignored the sound of shattering glass, his ears razor focused on the flighty, labored breathing of his little Morty. Grabbing an injector gun, he plugged in a blue vial of healing serum and pressed the needle into the boy's thin neck before pulling the trigger. A soft hiss came from the gun as the liquid flooded into the teen's artery. Immediately, the serum began working its magic, fusing bone back together and knitting injuries. Bruises that had barely formed were already fading, and Morty began breathing easier. His small body relaxed moment by moment until every trace of pain drifted away like it had all just been a bad dream.

Rick replaced the empty blue vial with a full green one in the injector gun and administered the shot into Morty's left wing, then one more into the right one. Setting the gun aside, he leaned close and stroked his long fingers through the boy's feathery hair as he laid on the table, panting and sweating.

"I-It's okay, Morty. Y-You're gonna be okay now," he soothed, unsure if he was reassuring Morty or his own self with the words.

The feathers that had been seared and burned on the boy's wings slowly began falling out, the gnarled, damaged plumage shedding into a messy pile on the exam table. In their places grew brand new feathers, clean and silky, as if the damage had never occurred.

When the last of the feathers grew in, and his body had healed completely, Morty breathed a huge sigh of relief and smiled up at Rick, relaxing on the table. "Th-Thanks, Rick," he told the old scientist sincerely, his voice slightly raspy. "Are—Are you okay, though?" He sat up and took the hand that had been in his hair and held it between both of his small palms. "You—Y-You didn't get shot, did you, Rick? Oh, geez, p-please tell me you're okay!"

Rick had to blink several times to shake the astonishment that rose from the boy's words. That was the first thing he chose to say after what just happened?! "What?! Me?! Morty, I'm **fine**. **You're** the one that nearly got his ass killed out there!" Exasperated, Rick withdrew his hand and turned, pacing away and throwing his arms up in the air. "Wh-Wh-What were you thinking?! Have you gone crazy or something?! Jumping in the way and taking those hits!" He whirled back, turning a glaring eye to the kid and making him flinch out of reflex. "You nearly died! I coulda lost you, Morty! I very nearly did! If I hadn't made those serums—!"

"I couldn't let them kill you!" Morty shouted to break Rick of his short tirade. "I couldn't lose you either, Rick! I couldn't watch them shoot you if I could do something about it! I can't...I can't lose you too, Rick!" He shook his head, tears pooling in his eyes. "I'd rather die than lose you."

"Yeah, well, I don't **want** you to die, Morty! I just fucking got you—I couldn't handle it if I lost you so quickly! You're all I have, Morty...all I have..." His voice gave way into a weak croak, and Rick turned around, covering his eyes with a hand. "Goddammit, Morty... Is this what it feels like...? Do all Ricks that have Mortys have to go through this kinda bullshit?"

Sniffing, Morty hung his head. "I don't think most Ricks care much about their Mortys. At least...that's what I've heard. We...we're all replaceable...disposable..."

Rick spun back around, a snarl on his lips, exposing some of his slightly yellowed teeth. "Bullshit! That's bullshit, Morty! Fuck that noise! **You** are not replaceable, Morty! And you are most definitely not fucking **disposable**! There may be infinite versions of Mortys, and I bet if we travel far enough out, really stretch the fabric of space-time to go waaaay off the deep end, there will be a level of realities where there are infinite versions of you with your wings. But that is so far off the rails that it doesn't exist to me, Morty. So to me, you are unique. There's only one of you, Morty, just one, just you." He approached the teen swiftly and reached in to cup his slender rounded face in both of his shaking, weathered hands. "And if I lost you, Morty... If I...if I lost you..." The boy's form swam in Rick's watery vision. "You're the only Morty I ever want, ever, Morty. Just you. Only you. You're my little baby bird, Morty. I wanna keep you and take care of you. And I can't do that if you're fuckin' dead, kid!"

"Hohh Rick!" Morty whined, reaching up for the old man and holding his face in his small hands, their poses now mirroring each other. "I'm so sorry, Rick. I wasn't thinking. You're unique to me too, Rick. I-I-I don't wanna ever be without you. I just wanted to keep you safe..."

"And I wanna keep you safe too, Morty. And I will," Rick promised. "Come here...com'ere, baby bird..."

"Rick..." Morty whined, heeding the call and climbing into Rick's open arms.

The genius held him tight and close, a hand cupped to the back of the boy's small head, tucking it against his throat. He turned and sat on the edge of the exam table, arranging Morty in his lap to be comfortable, and hugged him close, tenderly stroking his free hand up and down the boy's soft, newly healed wings, petting them with all the affection he felt stirred up in his old heart.

"I got you, Morty... Don't wanna lose you, baby bird... You're all I have," Rick rambled in a soft mumble against the side of the teen's head while he stroked that too. "My Morty...my sweet little baby bird...precious Morty..."

Morty soaked in the cooed words of adoration and cuddled deeply into the old man's embrace, tugging on his lab coat and tucking his head under it, ear to his Rick's steadily thumping heart. He loved the doting attention, the sound of the older man's gravely voice rumbling against his ear through his chest, the warmth of the lanky arms wrapped around his small frame, the familiar and comforting scent of the man filling his nostrils. And those hands...those gentle hands stroking his feathers, those slightly rough fingertips running through the wispy hair-like feathers on his head, the pads of those long digits caressing behind his ears and tickling up and down the back of his neck and dipping ever so slightly under the collar of his stretchy yellow shirt. Morty released a sighing moan and emerged from the warmth and security of Rick's coat. He leaned up and nuzzled his face against the old man's long throat, feeling him swallow and the flutter of his quickening heartbeat along the artery. His affection swelled even greater for his new Rick, that secret crush he held onto getting tossed into a furnace with the heat cranked up to eleven. Knowing he meant so much to the older man was stoking those flames of want like it was nobody's business.

"Rick...'m sorry, Rick... L-Love being with you, Rick..." he mumbled against the warm skin beneath his lips.

"S'okay, Morty... I got you now... My little Morty... You're fine—y-y-you're okay..." Rick soothed them both. "Can't lose you, baby bird... Don't wanna lose you, ever... It's just me and you, Morty. Rick and Morty, always and forever."

Morty bit his lip, the tears stinging his eyes with the feel of Rick rocking slightly and thin lips pressing against his temple. He wanted so badly to turn into the chaste kiss and allow their lips to meet, but figured that probably wouldn't be welcomed, no matter how relieved Rick was to have him safe and in his arms.

Rick, himself, wanted nothing more than to shower his little winged Morty with more than just words of ardent adoration or a couple soft, platonic kisses to his forehead. But he held back in fear and uncertainty, not sure if the teen would rebuke him for the move or not. It was hard to remind himself that even though Morty had been in a relationship with his original Rick, that didn't mean he wanted the same with him—especially after that misunderstanding that one night. Fuck, it still hurt to think about.

"C-Come on, Morty..." Rick said quietly, giving the boy a few more quick pecks along his hairline. "Let's go get something to eat. Whatever you want, just—just like I promised." Though instead of giving the kid the option to possibly refuse, he stood from the exam table and carried Morty up the flights of stairs and all the way into the kitchen, cradling him tightly the entire way.

For a while after that harrowing ordeal, they refrained from going on any more adventures. It wasn't like they really needed to anyway. Because Rick kept such a large stockpile of supplies, he was content with staying home and working on projects that didn't require something he needed to go out and acquire.

There was no timeframe for the delivery of the geode crystals either, since the agreement Rick had with his buyer was to make contact after he had gotten them. He just had to make as if he didn't have them yet.

So Rick and Morty stayed home, content for the time being to simply hibernate and relax after Morty's near brush with death.

Often, the boy would hang around Rick in his lab, helping with his tinkering, handing him tools, or retrieving supplies from the sub-lab storage. It was kind of like a job, only he wasn't being paid for it, at least, not in the usual sense. He got to pick their meals most days, and when Rick finished up a project, they would celebrate with a show or movie marathon all night long.

Morty would go outside to fly a little less often than before, mostly because he would rather spend time with Rick. It was as if after the scare of possibly losing the teen, Rick was being extra clingy, but Morty was just as guilty of that too.

When they would sit to watch TV, they would cuddle close on the couch, Rick's arm draped over Morty's shoulders and stroking idle, light fingers though the feathers of his wings. Morty too, would snuggle against the elder scientist's side, absently clinging to the man's white lab coat. It was as if they were to part for any length of time, they both would wither.

In the lab, quite often, when things were quiet and Rick wasn't in need of anything, Morty would hop up onto his back while he sat on his stool and hang there like he usually would if they were out adventuring. Rick would sit there and work silently, never making mention of the clingy behavior, refusing to call attention to it because he so enjoyed it himself. He loved the feel of the light weight hanging off of his shoulders, and the little pokes of the boy's toenails digging into his hips were barely a bother—more of a reassurance that he was still there, alive and well.

Whenever the kid dropped down for whatever reason, Rick would feel an odd sense of unbalance, needing to consciously adjust his posture. He was getting far too used to the boy being on his back, so much so that in the little teen's absence, he would feel cold and disjointed...as if a part of himself was suddenly missing.

While being a little winged backpack, Morty would sometimes nuzzle his face into the back of Rick's hair or neck or shoulder, and Rick would reach up and stroke the boy's tufty down hair or pet along a wing for a moment before going back to what he was doing.

They were a unit. A team. Partners. And they were really starting to fall into sync with one another, understanding what the other wanted or was thinking without a word ever passing either of their lips. They were truly becoming a part of one another.

Rick and Morty.

There was just that one last barrier. That unspoken want that hung around and between them like a thick fog, obscuring them from each other. But neither were brave enough to power through the haze to reach the other, no matter how many times Morty "accidentally" brushed his lips against the warm flesh of Rick's neck when he nuzzled the older man, or how many times Rick's delicate touch "innocently" grazed over the teen's waist while petting at his wings.

Their dance was tight, but there was still a hair's width that separated them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm wondering if anyone can guess the reference I made in this chapter and where it's from. It was only one word, so I don't know if anyone caught it. XD LOL


	12. Don't Call Me That

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SnowAndRayne drew an absolutely adorable picture of Morty W-005! Please check it out on her Twitter here: [Morty W-005](https://twitter.com/SnowAndRayne1/status/1337359612849184771) and give her tons of love! Thank you so much, SnowAndRayne!! I just adore it! ❤️❤️❤️

Moving about his lab with a lazy pace, Rick puttered around with odds and ends, fixing an invention here or there, adding something to another, or measuring out the proper components for a new serum he'd been contemplating.

The day had a sort of slow ambiance to it that day. The sun rose slowly, he and Morty had eaten breakfast at a leisurely pace, and now he was just as languid with putzing around in his lab. Morty had said he would join him later, wanting to take a mid-afternoon nap or something, so Rick was alone with his thoughts and his gizmos for a few hours.

He didn't usually mind it so much, being alone for any length of time. He was quite used to it, having been a solitary individual for many years. Lately, though, he and Morty had been extra clingy with each other, so that new solitude was a bit jarring. In fact, he could say that being alone kind of sucked anymore.

Rick sighed, picking at a few stray wires on a new invention, stripping the plastic jacket off to expose the metal inside and twisting the exposed ends together to form bridges. As he worked idly, his mind continually drifted back over things he would rather forget. The sound of laser blasts. The smell of burning hair and ozone. Blood and bruises and burn marks all over his little winged Morty's frail body. The memory cut him to his core—that vision of his precious Morty, lying broken on the ground, flailing at hulking aliens five times his size in a vain attempt to preserve his jeopardized life.

How could other Ricks do it? How could they subject their Mortys to such awful situations on a constant basis where they could end up like that?...or worse...do it to those sweet boys themselves, on purpose. The thought of other versions of himself intentionally causing harm or even death to their Mortys made him furious and sick at the same time. He felt for those poor boys in other dimensions that he'd never met—his empathetic side shining brightly right then.

But...

Rick sighed again, fiddling with a small spring, trying to get it fixed into the contraption at just the right position.

It wasn't like he could do anything for all those other abused Mortys. They were out of his hands—were never in his hands to begin with—so it was best that he put them out of his mind and concentrate on what he **did** have. And he **did** have his own Morty. A petite, frail little Morty with adorable brown wings and big blue eyes. Son of a bitch, did he care about that little brat. And he could fucking kick himself for allowing the boy to be put into harm's way the way he had. Literally, he could clone himself and tell the clone to kick him until he felt satisfied that he'd repented enough. But that was a hassle, and he was already doing a good enough job mentally beating himself up over it, so there was no real need to get too in depth.

The spring Rick was trying to manipulate slipped loose, and it sprang out of the metal housing and ricocheted off the wall and table top before bouncing to the floor and rolling under the workbench along the back wall.

"Ugh..." Rick grunted, rolling his eyes. Rather than losing his cool, he just reached into a drawer at his side and pulled out another, identical spring, planning on locating the fallen one later.

He didn't stay stocked up on supplies for nothing.

The old scientist fiddled and clinked around with his invention, mind only partially focused on the task. He could invent in his sleep, **had** actually, on several occasions—dreaming up designs that were perfectly detailed and functional when he set to work creating them after waking up. So his body followed his mind's directions to fabricate whatever it was he was making, while his in-depth thoughts drifted far away to things totally unrelated. So far away, in fact, that his eyes glossed over, and he no longer saw what he was doing, but rather saw nothing really at all, all visual focus gone—like driving to work only to arrive there and not remember anything you'd seen along the way.

Really, Rick realized idly, there would inevitably come a time when his new Morty would encounter trouble or become injured during one of their adventures. Mortys were quite accident-prone after all, as he'd learned through talking to other Ricks on the Citadel. And often, he'd been told, a Morty's ethical compass pointed him in the wrong direction, ending up getting himself and others hurt or killed in the pursuit of morality. So, really, in all fairness and certainty, his little winged Morty was bound to get hurt sometime...just like that one adventure on the rocky, cave planet.

It was just that Rick hated that thought. He cared for Morty—cared for him so, so much. He never wanted harm to come to the precious boy. It would take a lot of effort for Rick to try to keep him safe, but before long, the kid was going to end up taking a fall or getting a bruise.

Unbidden, thoughts of a very young Beth came to mind, watching her running down a sidewalk in a pair of brand new shoes that didn't quite fit right. The toe of one caught on an upraised crack in the concrete, and she had taken a dive, face first. It was the first really substantial injury she'd suffered in her so far short life—a bloody lip, scraped chin and palms, and one missing tooth—but Rick remembered his stomach dropping out of his ass the second she tipped forward with not enough coordination to catch herself properly. He had rushed over and snatched her up, cradled her against his chest as she wailed and bled on his white lab coat, and ran back for the garage as fast as his long legs could carry them.

Beth's cries when they first arrived brought Diane rushing through the garage door. Rick apologized to them both like his life depended on it, healed his little girl and gave her a popsicle, and felt like a piece of shit just for the fact that she'd gotten hurt on his watch. Diane had been understanding, telling him that kids got hurt all the time, and thanking him for being such a genius that he could quickly fix the boo-boos like they never even happened. She told him he should be proud that he could do so, that the fact that he was a super scientist had him leagues ahead of other dads that had to take their kids to the hospital when such injuries occurred. She was proud of him. She loved him. He was a good father.

It only made him feel a little bit better.

But that occasion had been a learning experience for Rick. Still being new to the "parenting" thing, he had finally grasped the concept of "there are things out of your control". He hated that realization at the time. He **wanted** to be in control. He wanted to make certain that nothing slipped past him again, that everything was accounted for, every scenario, every loose end tied into a neat bow. He was a fucking god. Gods didn't allow for their little girls to trip and fall on the pavement.

The universe, however, was a fickle bitch, and she loved to pistol whip Rick into submission as often as she could. She taught Rick the hard way that there were **definitely** things outside of his control, things that could surprise him, things that could affect him far deeper than he wished they could.

She taught Rick that he was, in fact, a god of nothing...his godhood meant nothing...he **was** nothing.

And when nothing mattered...not even himself...that was when he truly realized his utter insignificance in the vast scheme of the infinite cosmic everything.

That realization left him a broken shell of a man. What was the point of being the smartest person in the universe when nothing in the universe mattered?

But then Morty came along...and **Morty** mattered. Morty was like a shining beacon in the darkness, his smiles like rays of sunshine breaking up the dark clouds in Rick's old, battered heart. Morty was the sun and Rick orbited him in a tight loop, so, so close, but yet still so far away, terrified of being burned. He knew he was whipped, that his happiness was in direct correlation with the little teenager's mood. As much as he wanted to deny that the thing called "love" existed, he was still a slave to it—a slave to his little Morty. At that point, saying he "cared" for Morty wasn't good enough anymore. He more than cared. Almost losing him was an ice cold slap in the face—the worst kind of wake-up call—worse even than when the kid had torn up his wings during that one adventure. It made him relearn that valuable lesson he'd taken in long ago, that there were things out of his control, and so he'd better make do with his time while he had it.

In that regard, Rick wanted to tell Morty how he felt...wanted to tell the boy how much he loved him. He wanted to sweep little Morty off his bare feet and kiss him breathless, take him to bed, and show him physically how deep his love went.

Then again...what if the boy didn't want something like that? What if he was disgusted? No, no, he'd been in a relationship with his own fucking grandfather in his home dimension, of **course** he wouldn't be grossed out by Rick coming on to him. But the kid was so little, even though he was the same age as all the rest of the Mortys out there. He was just from a dimension where **everyone** was smaller, not just him. He just looked like someone reduced his size by twenty percent with a shrink ray. So it was normal. It was okay...right?

Rick grumbled and slammed the screwdriver he was apparently holding down to the workbench. Dammit, why was he in such turmoil over that kid?! Other Ricks were fucking their Mortys all the time, why not him too?! He should just go for it, right? And if the boy refused, then...then...

Groaning, Rick pinched his fingers to the bridge of his nose and rubbed the spot firmly.

Then what? He would say "I'm sorry" and they'd go back to normal? Or, and what would be the more likely scenario, Morty would avoid him and things would become super awkward.

Shit, he had no idea what to do. And Rick **hated** not knowing what to do.

He wanted his little Morty so much that his chest ached, but actively pursuing him could lead to unintended negative consequences. Rick didn't want to risk it. He couldn't stand to lose any status that he'd fought hard to gain with Morty. He'd done so much to attain the boy's trust in the beginning, to console him when he was blubbering over his stupid dead original Rick, to argue in his stead with Storage and Agent Rick over his treatment and how valuable he was. And all of the subsequent adventures where he let the boy fly around to scout or just to occupy himself while Rick got what he was after—Rick had Morty on a very, very long leash...and he continuously gave it more and more slack. But Morty kept coming back, kept hanging around him, kept helping him and beaming huge, happy smiles his way. So...Rick must have been doing something right, then...right? He was definitely inexperienced with having a Morty, but he really did think that they'd developed a rhythm...a symbiosis of sorts.

They were...happy.

Things were fine the way they were... Rick did not want to jeopardize their relationship. He couldn't lose the status he'd so ardently tried to build with his Morty. Already, he'd come to that conclusion several times before, but his resolve would waver, and he would question whether pushing forward romantically with the boy would be a benefit or a detriment to their partnership. And in each instance, he would regretfully back his own self down if only to keep what they already had from being ruined.

So...pursuing Morty...had to be taken off the table once again...

Closing his eyes, Rick braced his palms to the workbench and leaned on them, arms rigid and shoulders hunched. His fucking eyes were stinging. Ugh...goddammit...he needed a drink...

"Grampa?"

Rick started at the softly spoken call, suddenly emanating from somewhere behind him. The jolt was like a lightning bolt cracking down through his spine, hot, then immediately prickling ice cold. He stood up straight, eyes flying open wide, a gasp catching in the middle of his throat where a sudden lump had formed.

Grampa...

That soft, sweet tone from that specific voice...like a specter calling out to him from a dream...never meant to come true.

Grampa...

That voice that he would never have heard in his dimension if he hadn't gone to the Citadel to adopt the boy it belonged to.

Grampa...

He would **never** actually be a "grampa"...

"Morty..." Rick mumbled, his gravely voice subdued but strained as he said, "Don't call me that."

His "anything less than a positive response" must have been a shock to the boy because a soft little gasp reached his ears, then the little patter of bare feet sounded, trotting closer on the concrete floor.

"Aw geez, I-I'm sorry, Rick! I d-didn't mean to upset you or anything! Really, I'm really sorry, Rick!" Morty apologized vehemently, as though panicked that he'd somehow screwed something up. After all, so far, they had mostly been on good terms with each other. Suddenly being thrust into a grey area of uncertainty was probably worse than if Rick had actually yelled at him. "I-I-I just thought...th-that you'd like to hear me say it... Y'know...s-since technically you're my g-grampa..."

"I don't consider you my grandson, Morty," Rick told him, flat out. If the boy had ever been questioning what Rick thought of him, there was no need to guess anymore. "Regardless that Ricks and Mortys are related by blood, you and I are from two completely different evolutionary chains. Your blood matched your avian Rick's blood...not mine... I can't even share healing serums with you, Morty... The ones made for my DNA structure wouldn't be able to help you. That's why I had to spend all that effort to create special ones just for you."

Rick could hear the boy fidgeting behind him, the soft rustle of his wings indicating he was twitching them nervously.

"Geez, Rick, I'm really sorry. D-Don't be mad, okay?" he begged pathetically.

A little tug was felt on Rick's white lab coat, and he finally turned, facing his little winged Morty. The boy looked downtrodden, head tilted down, but still guiltily looking up at him, eyes just a little glassy. Rick's heart couldn't help but go out to him, even with how upset he was. First was his defeatist position on whether or not to pursue the boy romantically, and then getting blindsided with the whole "grampa" thing so suddenly. He thought he'd told the kid before that he wasn't trying to be like a grandfather to him, but then again, Morty often didn't get the memos left for him.

"I'm not mad, Morty," he told the pouting boy gently. "I just don't want you to call me that...ever. I'm not your grampa, Morty." He sighed softly and closed his eyes to that sweet visage and those big blue eyes, the sight of them just a little too painful in that moment. Rick's heart probably couldn't take much more strain for that afternoon. "I'll never be a grampa."

Several long moments ticked by in silence.

A very light, feathery touch brushed along the side of Rick's hand, and then little hollow-boned fingers slipped around and held it as securely as they could. The old scientist felt Morty give his hand a little tug, and he opened his eyes again and beheld the cute little guy looking up at him with an uncharacteristically adult-like understanding shining in the blue depths of his eyes.

"It really bothers you...that you don't have a Morty in your dimension..." he stated rather than asked. Sometimes the kid was far too astute, despite his generally low IQ. However, he seemed to often have a very well-rounded understanding of free-flowing thought and emotion to compensate.

Rick sighed and looked down at him. He took the boy in from head to elongated toe, the sadness and discomfort from that one little innocent word slowly melting from his bones. He couldn't really be mad at the kid, nor was he. And he couldn't really hold onto that empty feeling of loss of what could have been, not with that adorable little face turned up to him. "But I **do** have a Morty in my dimension, buddy... **You're** my Morty," he said softly, giving the small hand holding his a gentle squeeze.

Morty bit his lip to keep the grin spreading over his mouth from being too big. His little cheeks dusted with soft color, and he shyly turned his eyes down to the side, shrugging his shoulders up, his wings rustling a bit behind his back.

A little thumb brushed along the boney ridge of Rick's knuckles, and the old man suddenly realized they were still holding hands. Clearing his throat, he gave one more little squeeze, then let the boy go, propping his butt back against his workbench and crossing his arms across his chest, just to do something with them. He finally noted that Morty had been keeping one arm hidden behind his back the entire time, and curiosity got the better of him.

"What do you have there, Morty?" he asked, nodding toward the boy's hidden arm.

The rosy color dusting Morty's cheeks deepened just a little, and he nibbled his bottom lip a bit more aggressively. "Oh, uh...w-well, um...I...I know that today is your birthday, Rick," he ventured cautiously.

Rick's eyes widened. His birthday? Huh... Perhaps that was why the kid chose to address him for the first time as "grampa"...like a special occasion thing? Instead of addressing it, however, he spouted out, "Oh...shit, I guess you're right. How did you...?" Snorting a little laugh, he shook his head and waved a hand back and forth. "N-No, never mind."

Morty giggled. "I...I made something for you, Rick. For your birthday."

The old scientist raised half of his thick unibrow. "Oh? Izzat what you were doing after breakfast, hm?" he wondered suspiciously, giving the boy a knowing smirk.

Shrugging and blush deepening, the petite winged teen took a step closer and shifted from foot to foot nervously. "I...I hope you like it..." Bringing his hand in front of himself, he produced what looked like a fan made of his own feathers and presented it to Rick.

The old man's eyes widened, and his mouth opened a little in shock. "Oh...Morty..."

Handing it to him, Morty immediately tucked both hands back behind his back and hunched his shoulders up high, all blushes and teeth nibbling at his lower lip.

Brushing his thumbs over the fan gently, Rick took in the design and craftsmanship. It was definitely made of the boy's feathers, the longest ones about fourteen inches and progressively shorter feathers glued onto them down to the base where small downy plumes masked the quills. The thin handle was what looked like a wooden paddle ball toy with the elastic cord and rubber ball obviously removed. The brown feathers were glued onto the paddle to make the fan shape, and even though there were some obvious globs of white adhesive bubbled out from underneath a few feathers here and there, the whole thing looked quite well-made, and honestly, beautiful.

"You...you **made** this?... For **me**?" Rick asked, voice soft, full of awe for the surprise gift.

Morty nodded, a huge smile spreading over his lips. "I-I know how much you like my feathers, Rick... So I thought I'd make something out of them for you to have wh-when I'm not around or something."

"You—You didn't pull them out to make this, did you?!" Rick yelled suddenly, the thought striking him out of the blue.

"No! Dude, you kidding me? I-I know you like my feathers, but I'm not yanking them out for you, Rick. Those are ones that fell out by themselves," Morty answered immediately. He blushed redder. "I-I've been saving them up for a while now...'cause I knew your birthday was coming up, a-and I wanted to use them to make something for you. A-All I could think to make was just a fan, and you don't have to use it or anything...but...yeah..." Shrugging, he averted his eyes shyly.

Rick stared at the fan, lovingly touching the feathers. They were so silky and pretty, especially when tilting them in the light showed the honey golden sheen of the vanes. Testing the sturdiness of the boy's creative endeavor, he held the thin wooden handle and fanned himself with it briefly. Cool air caressed his old face and played with his wild, silvery-blue hair.

He leveled a grin down at Morty. "Well, seems like it works great, Morty. If it gets too hot, I'll definitely use it," he promised, winking at him.

Morty continued to blush, holding clasped hands behind his back, beneath his wings, and twisting his shoulders from side to side bashfully. Rick couldn't help the thought that he looked like a teenager, shyly telling the prettiest girl at school that he liked her. He tried not to read too far into it. Really, he did. But he couldn't help but want it to be true, even after resolving to not pursue the boy romantically. He hated himself for how much he flip-flopped on that.

But...it certainly **looked** like he was being flirted with.

"Ah shit, kid, you're so sweet. Come'ere..." Rick opened his arms, smiling, all hurt feelings and bad thoughts wiped away.

Morty eagerly hopped into his arms and clung to his chest, hugging around his shoulders, and Rick held him close, rocking his upper body back and forth slowly while they embraced tightly.

"Mmph...you'll give me cavities, Morty, fuck..." Rick grumbled good-naturedly.

Giggling, Morty leaned up to peck him sweetly on the cheek. Rick retaliated with tickles, wiggling his fingers against the boy's waist, and he squirmed and laughed, wings fluttering. Laughing with him, the old man tilted the kid to fall back against his chest and fanned the both of them with the feather fan, and they both sighed and stilled under the cooling breeze, all big smiles and closed eyes.

"I gotta find a nice place to put it when I'm not using it. But, in the meantime," Rick said, turning and walking toward the door to the house with his little Morty in tow, "since it's my birthday, how's about you and me spend the rest of the day and all night doing an interdimensional cable marathon, bay-bee!"

Morty whooped, and they entered the house and rounded through the kitchen into the living room. Rick sat with him on the couch and laid the fan to the coffee table, exchanging it for the remote which he used to turn on the TV to begin channel surfing.

Sitting on Rick's lap with his legs over one of the old man's thighs, his smaller legs dangling down between much longer legs, and his side propped against his chest, Morty relaxed against the old scientist and nuzzled along his shoulder. Rick idly rubbed his cheek into Morty's hair and pet along the boy's wing slowly while trying to find something decent enough to watch for more than a few seconds. His long fingers toyed between and under soft feathers, lightly caressing at the powdery-soft skin underneath.

A minute or two went by while Rick channel surfed and the teen enjoyed his sweet touch. "You're so gentle, Rick. I-It feels so nice," Morty told him quietly, a deep sigh accompanied by his light body sagging more against the old man.

"Yeah?" Rick wondered offhand, paying just slightly more attention to the TV in that moment. "Guess that's why I was qualified to have you."

A small hand alighted to his cheek, and Morty lifted enough to place a delicate peck to the opposite one. "I'm glad you were qualified, Rick," he said quietly, voice drifting oddly deep.

The quality of that tone had Rick swallowing and nervously flicking through several more channels quickly. "Yeah...m-me too..." he mumbled.

Morty laid his head back down to the old man's chest, and Rick breathed deeply to calm his thudding heart so it wouldn't be noticed.

He just couldn't keep to himself, though...couldn't let that delicate kiss go unanswered... So he tilted his head down and lightly pressed his lips to the top of the boy's head. He was replied by a soul-satisfied sigh and a little body squirming to snuggle closer. Morty nuzzled his face up under Rick's chin like a nosing cat, and they sat that way on the couch, cuddled close and watching cable for hours until they both fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was another one that I ended up adding late in the game. I wanted the unspoken issue of Rick being Morty's grandfather to be addressed. But don't get me wrong, every Rick is a grandfather to every Morty, even the Rick and Morty in this story. It's just in this one instance, their evolutionary DNA doesn't match, so they aren't, technically speaking, "related". Like a lizard Rick paired up with a cat Morty, type thing. Different species. But trust me, I dig the whole grandpa/grandson ship between them...kinda why I'm writing what I am in the first place. LOL I'm not trying to make excuses for it to be okay for them to screw here, just being technical for the sake of it. That, and this Rick obviously will not accept that he's a grandfather to any Morty because one wasn't actually born in his dimension. It's a bad hangup for him, but after so long, that hangup won't be going away.
> 
> Hope you understand where I'm coming from here. I hope you also enjoyed the chapter. More will be coming soon, so please stay tuned until then! Thank you so much for reading! ❤️


	13. Touched by an Angel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This couldn't have lined up any better! This special chapter on Christmas Day! (It **should** be anyway, since I set the publication date to the 25th. LOL)
> 
> I present this very special (and probably long awaited) gift to you. **Merry Christmas, everyone!** Please enjoy! ❤️
> 
> 🎄🎁

Soft light flickered through the living room late at night, highlighting surfaces and casting deep shadows throughout the area. The television droned on quietly from the built-in entertainment center along the wall, the source of the changing hues and patterns of light.

Rick surveyed the dim room, having come in from the lab seeking a break and to check on Morty. The boy had been absent for a few hours, and Rick wasn't exactly **worried** , but he'd feel a lot better knowing where the teen was. And there he found his Morty, curled up on the couch in the living room, having fallen asleep watching interdimensional cable.

Smiling at the small slumbering form on the couch, Rick didn't have the heart to wake him up to shoo him off to bed, nor did he have a reason to. All he wanted was to lay eyes on the boy, just to see his little face and know he was all right.

The scientist sighed and reached for the throw blanket draped over the chair he stood next to and unfolded it. He knew he was being overprotective and paranoid. He knew he needed to dial it back, that Morty was fine, that everything was fine, but it was a lot harder done than said.

Never having a Morty of his own really put things into perspective for Rick. It made the boy's life even more precious than it would be to any other Rick that had been given a Morty on a silver platter. Those "privileged" Ricks that had a Morty born in their home dimension. Those other Ricks that used their Mortys like they were entitled to, as though if they did not, they wouldn't be considered a "Rick". But Rick S-322 knew better...knew the value of a life he had never been "privileged" enough to hold close and watch over.

Mortys were special. That was why Ricks needed them, whether they realized it or not. And it wasn't just for the cover of their brainwaves either. They were good helpers, good fighters, good listeners (mostly), and good companions. They could keep a Rick reigned in, minimize the damage a Rick could do while drunk, and so much more.

Mortys were a perfect fit for Ricks.

Rick smiled down at his little winged Morty, slumbering on the couch. His small face was lax in sleep, the soft light from the TV brushing over his features and highlighting them in just the right way to make Rick's old heart skip a beat. Carefully, he drew the throw blanket over the boy's body and draped it over his shoulders and wings, giving it a light stroke over one covered wing before straightening and turning back toward the kitchen.

He would let Morty sleep. He would give the kid more space, encourage him to go outside and fly more often, starting tomorrow. He had to find that right balance of caring for the boy and keeping him safe without suffocating him by being needy all the time. He was sure the kid would appreciate it too.

"R-Rick?" a small voice called out to his retreating form, groggy with sleep.

Rick halted halfway to the kitchen and turned back around. "Sorry, Morty. Didn't mean to wake you," he mumbled softly, as though the dimness of the room and late time warranted subdued voices.

"Wh-Where are you going?" Morty asked, sitting up and clutching at the blanket that slid down onto his lap.

Rick shrugged and thumbed over his shoulder. "Lab."

"Oh..." the teen mumbled, staring down at his hands holding the blanket. "O-Okay..." The downtrodden tone to his voice couldn't be more apparent, even though it was masked with haphazard casualness.

A little curious frown crinkled Rick's brow between his eyes, and he stepped over to the end of the couch. "Something wrong?"

It was hard to tell in the dim, washed out lighting, but it looked like a little color began to leak onto the boy's cheeks. "N-No, I...I-I was just..." Morty took a steady breath, then looked up, a sort of determination painted across the soft roundness of his face. "Will—Will you stay here? Like...l-lay with me?" He swallowed, suddenly a lot more nervous than a second ago. "Y-You look tired, is all. I mean. W-We could take a nap on the couch, ya know? Like—Like last night...for your birthday..."

He tried. Rick tried really, really hard to not think of that as an invitation to something more, but he couldn't shake the warmth that spread through his stomach with the way Morty averted his eyes and bit at his lower lip. And even though his mind was wandering to places untoward, his outward appearance and mannerisms remained unfazed and nonplussed.

With a glance toward his lab through the wall of the living room, Rick debated his decision for a moment before he turned back and shrugged with a light sigh. "O-Okay, Morty. Just for a little bit," he caved, rounding the couch.

A look of excitement lit up Morty's face before the boy clipped it off to a small smile. He maneuvered out of the way and let Rick lay down on his back on the couch before crawling back on, snuggling between the old scientist's side and the backrest of the seat, tucking in like a four foot two winged cat.

Rick lightly chuckled, feeling him wiggling to find a comfortable position. "I fuckin' spoil you, Morty."

The boy giggled in return, stroking his cheek against the old man's shoulder. "You like it, Rick."

"Heh...sh-shut up... Little...little scamp...fuckin' hellion..." His insults held no bite and were spoken with more affection than the words themselves could ever hold. The only retort he received was a little snicker and another nuzzle against his shoulder.

Smiling at the dim ceiling of the living room, Rick watched the light from the TV project soft changes of color against the surface while he stroked one of Morty's wings slowly and tenderly, a feeling of contentment filling his chest—contentment with his new life with his new Morty. Things were so much better now than the way they had been before. His home was no longer quiet and lonely. He no longer had to drag himself out of bed every day to pursue the monotony that had been life. He no longer contemplated his own insignificance in the grand scheme of the universe on a near constant basis. His focus had narrowed down from the infinite to what he had right in front of himself, and his mind was sharper than ever before.

All because of one little boy.

Well...little teenager.

But, more than ever, it was a reminder that Ricks truly did need Mortys in their lives to feel complete. Rick himself had never felt as complete and fulfilled as he did right then. And even though he would love to have that one little bit more, just one more step in their relationship, Rick was still content with where he was.

The small body that laid half over him on the couch shifted, and Morty looked up at him from his shoulder. Rick tilted his chin down to better see him, smiling softly at the kid, as if his thoughts were also being worn on his face. Morty returned the smile, but tucked his bottom lip between his teeth, turning the sweet expression into something a little more coy.

One of Morty's wings lifted, unfolding from his back, and the boy stroked it upward along Rick's free arm, the one not tucked against the back of the couch and petting at the other wing. Rick's eyes snapped to it, tracking the slow movement like a hawk, but he showed no outward signs of discomfort, nor did he give away how nervous he suddenly felt. He simply watched the brown feathers of the wing caress along the sleeve of his white lab coat and felt the warmth of the appendage, even through two layers of material.

Morty's arm curled up along his chest, and Rick couldn't help but swallow, his mouth suddenly dry as a desert. Little fingers pawed so lightly along the teal collar of his shirt that he barely even felt it, and then they drifted to the side, hiding ever so slightly under the lapel of his coat. It was a move that could have been perceived as intimate, but the old scientist resisted that thought with all the strength he had...strength that was waning second by second the more that wing brushed along his arm and the more that boy nuzzled his chin against his shoulder with slow, subtle motions.

In being so close, it was a lot easier to see the rosy color suddenly staining Morty's soft, rounded cheeks, but the kid ducked his head down, resting one cheek to Rick's chest, trying to hide his face, though not really succeeding. The teen was too vested in what he seemed to be trying to do to keep from looking away completely. So he kept this cheek to Rick's chest, but tilted his head up to watch as his wing spread upward even further. The first of the long flight feathers extended and tickled upward along Rick's neck, the sensation not an irritant, but enticing. It moved further up, brushing lightly along the older man's cheek, caressing his face.

A deep sigh escaped from Morty's nose, slow and drawn out, and he stared longingly up at Rick.

And Rick was no stranger to that sort of look. He'd seen it on many faces throughout his long life of love affairs and one night stands. That was the look of want...of desire... And Rick was terrified he'd somehow misinterpreted a sweet moment as something sordid, but deep in his gut, he knew Morty was finally looking at him the way he'd always wanted him to.

It was obvious the kid was flirting with him. Those looks, those soft touches, that little pink lip being held nervously but hopefully between his teeth...

Rick couldn't believe it.

Yesterday, when Morty had given him that fan made of his feathers for his birthday, Rick was sure the boy was being flirty with him then too—holding his hand and intimately brushing his thumb over the bony knuckles, shyly shrugging into himself, giving the old man sweet kisses on his cheek and cuddling with him really, really closely—but he just didn't want to risk being wrong. Now, though...now, there was no doubt that Morty was expressing interest in the scientist.

Rick's heart picked up in pace like a raid siren had just sounded.

The kid was so damn cute, looking up at him like that, the soft flickering light of the droning TV highlighting his features, the softness of his skin, and lips that were altogether too alluring for the boy's own good.

Giving in to that nagging, slowly-building desire he'd been stewing in for months now—because just maybe now was **finally** the right time to do so—Rick reached in and cupped Morty's cheek, thumb caressing over the small cheekbone. It wasn't like he'd never done so before, so if **somehow** their signals were crossed, he'd have an excuse to weasel himself out of the situation.

But that move only seemed to serve as a sign for Morty. The teen wiggled up along Rick's body and pressed his face into the old man's throat, sighing a warm breath over the flesh and giving him goosebumps and a little shiver. Undeterred, Morty tilted his head around slowly, nuzzling his face along Rick's neck, his small hand curling into a fist and holding onto the scientist's teal shirt under his lab coat. The nosing continued, long enough for Rick to sigh and sink into the cushions and tilt his head slightly into the feeling, relaxing into his Morty's little display of affection. But a moment later, a sensation—that could not be mistaken for anything other than lips pressing into his throat—pecked along his warm skin.

Those tiny kisses traced up and down his throbbing artery.

That wing and those feathers caressed across his face again.

The hand that had been gripping his shirt slid upward and delicate fingers stroked along his collarbone.

Warm breaths puffed over his suddenly sweaty flesh.

Rick huffed, overwhelmed, and took Morty's hand into his shaking one, squeezing very gently and pulling it away from his skin. The boy looked up at him, sudden worry crinkling his brow, fear shining in his eyes.

Rick merely looked away, eyes drifting closed sadly.

"Do you hate me?"

Rick looked back at Morty, surprised not only by the silence being broken, but by the question itself. "What? No, of course not."

Morty cast his eyes downward, idly picking at a stray thread on the scientist's lab coat. "It just seems like...after that one time...you know...wh-when I accidentally...t-touched you...wh-when I was mostly asleep..." He swallowed nervously. They had never spoken about that incident before, some sort of silent pact between them keeping them tight-lipped on the issue. But Morty now seemed tired of keeping that moment locked away. "It—It seems like after then...you started drinking a lot...and you'd disappear for hours... I know you t-tried to act like nothing was wrong between us, but...I-I could tell... You weren't comfortable with me any-anymore..."

Rick's eyebrow tented in concern. "Morty...no, that's...that's not it."

"Then what is it, Rick? Sometimes...you'd look at me like I was the only thing that mattered...th-then sometimes you avoided looking at me altogether." The boy swallowed but stared at his elder's eyes, refusing to back down, a determined sort of air about him. "I'm confused, Rick. I...I like you...a lot... Sometimes, it really seems like you like me too...but then you'd push me away."

The old man had visions of holding the boy's hand, but releasing it immediately when he realized they'd been connected for a little too long to seem platonic. Hugs that were close and intimate with large hands rubbing along Morty's wings or back, then letting go before it was interpreted badly. Cuddling closely on the couch but going no further than chaste kisses to a little forehead or intimate but restrained petting of feathers. Rick supposed he really had been playing hard to get, and finally realized that Morty had indeed shown interest in him for a while now, because the boy had never refused a single touch, and even initiated many of the moments of closeness they had shared, especially since the harsh scare from their last adventure.

Goddammit, Rick was such a fucking moron. So weak-willed and pathetic, he couldn't even acknowledge the fact that the person he wanted most actually wanted him back.

"I'm sorry, Morty. I never meant to upset you. It's just..." he shrugged with a lame-duck sigh, "I was just dealing with my own shit, and...and I didn't wanna drag you down with me... That's all."

Morty looked at him for a moment, nibbling his lower lip. "But...you **did** drag me down, Rick."

A miserable sort of look spread over the old man's features, and he closed his eyes, facing away again in shame.

"I felt down because something was wrong with my Rick...and it seemed like it was my fault. It had to be my fault..."

Rick shook his head, turning back to the boy yet again. "No, no, Morty." He wiggled his pinned arm free and reached in with both hands, cupping Morty's small face. "It was never your fault. You're just so sweet, Morty...so cute and—and...fuckin' beautiful, Morty." Icy grey eyes followed his own thumbs stroking the boy's cheeks. "I wanna treat you right, baby bird. I wanna give you anything you want... I wanna make you happy, Morty... I...I care about you...a lot...a whole fuckin' lot..." he confessed. A huge sigh left him deflated and feeling like a two ton boulder was finally lifted off of his heart. But with that confession also came a rush of sadness, and Rick averted his eyes once more. "But...it just seems like whatever I do...I keep having to compete with your original Rick. He's the one you've always had eyes for, Morty... He's the one you'd rather be with right now...not me."

"Oh, Rick..." Morty's eyes swam as they darted to look into each of Rick's grey orbs, flecked with blue. "That's not true, Rick. Yeah, I loved my Rick and we were together...but...but things are different now. He's gone and...and now I have you, Rick. I have you, and—and I love being with you. It's not my original that I wanna be with right now, Rick...it's **you**..."

Grey eyes widened at those words, and thin lips drifted slightly apart, shallow breaths escaping through them.

"It's you that makes me happy, Rick. You really do." Reaching up, Morty took hold of one of Rick's hands on his cheek and lifted it a little so he could nuzzle and kiss the palm. "You've made me so happy, Rick... Just you..."

Rick's heart was nearly beating out of his chest. His eyes remained glued on his little Morty, putting kisses in his palm and walking his lips up one long finger. His breaths were short and flighty when Morty rubbed his own face along his large hand, seeking affection from him. And when the boy opened his cerulean eyes and gazed down at him with wanton desire, parting his lips and running them softly along his thumb, Rick bit his own lip hard, inhaling sharply through his nose.

" _Morty..._ " he whispered, eyes wide in awe, swallowing heavily.

It was obvious now that all bets were off. In fact, Rick was so certain that things were about to take that turn that he'd always longed for, practically ever since he first laid eyes on his winged Morty, that he exhaled all the tension in his body and allowed himself to let go. Blood roared in his ears and his extremities suddenly felt cool and tingly, his rapid heartbeat pumping that blood south so fast, it left him slightly light-headed. He was sure the boy could feel his sudden raging hard-on throbbing against his slender thigh. In fact, he knew the kid noticed it, because the little minx smirked and giggled and moved his leg just a little higher, pressing firmly against it, all the while he nibbled his teeth gently along the pad of Rick's big thumb.

"Fuck, Morty..." the old scientist hissed softly, his hips beginning to undulate with a slow, sensual curl, massaging the hot and thick bulge against the boy's leg just enough to tease his own self.

Morty sighed lightly and closed his eyes, his little pink tongue emerging from between little pink lips to take a swipe at Rick's big thumb. "Rick..." he moaned throatily, staring down at him with lidded eyes, his lips dragging along the wet digit as he spoke that one word.

Exhaling loudly, Rick cupped Morty's face and drew him downward, curling up to meet him partway, pressing their foreheads together. He panted hard, his hot, moist breaths puffing along Morty's lips, and the teen huffed with heady desire and began panting in return, their breaths mingling in the narrow space between their faces.

Their lips were so close...so, so close...

"I...I'm not him..." Rick whined, his chest aching from the strain of keeping curled up like that and from months of repressed desire. As much as he wanted to surge onward, it had to be said. The air had to be cleared.

"I know..." Morty told him, softly, sincerely.

"You okay with that?" He had to know, had to be one hundred percent sure.

Morty remained quiet for a moment before a soft smile drew his lips wider. "Yeah..."

With a strangled gasp, Rick dove in and captured the little winged Morty's mouth for the first time, relishing in the feel of those plush lips on his at long fucking last.

So long...he had been pining and hoping and wanting for **so** long...and it was every bit worth the wait.

The small teen's lips were so soft, his skin was powdery, his warm breaths that puffed into Rick's mouth were divine. The subtle taste of crisp lemon and lime bloomed across the old man's lips and teased along his taste buds, and only then did he remember that there was a can of 7-UP sitting on the coffee table, completely looked over when he had entered the room earlier. The flavor was sweet and accentuated their first intimate embrace, surely making it a moment to always remember.

They kissed long and slow and deep, savoring each other and that moment, searing everything into their brains so as to never forget.

Rick's hands roamed Morty's face, his small chest, over his shoulders and arms, and most especially along his fluffy wings. They had always been so soft when he touched them, but in that moment of intensity, they felt like the softest down, the silkiest of silks, and Rick whined a moan deep into the boy's mouth, making him shiver and moan himself.

"Morty...my Morty..." he mumbled distractedly, trailing kisses across one cheek and finding a little ear to nibble on. "You feel so good, Morty," he groaned into that ear, feeling a shiver overtake the kid's body. "Fuck, you're delicious." His nimble tongue swirled along the shell of Morty's ear, then down along his jawline where he mouthed loud kisses against his chin.

"R-Rick..." Morty gasped clinging to the lapels of the older man's lab coat. "I-I've wanted this, Rick... Wanted you...l-like this..."

"Me too, Morty..." Rick answered immediately, kissing down a small throat. "Oh, me too... Wanted to hold you and kiss you, Morty. Wanted to make you feel so good, baby bird." He tilted up and cupped one hand along the boy's face again, stroking the cheek and losing the tips of his fingers in downy brown hair. "You've made everything better for me, Morty. Everything... My sweet little guardian angel," he cooed, pressing their foreheads together and closing his eyes reverently. "You saved me, Morty," he croaked, voice growing tight. "Saved me from falling to my doom...saved me from getting killed on that last adventure...saved me from loneliness...saved me from a life of empty bitterness...saved me from falling down that dark rabbit hole that most S-Ricks can't escape from." He huffed and fought the sting in his tightly closed eyes. "You saved me from myself, Morty... My guardian angel...my precious little baby bird..."

Morty whined softly, losing his own battle to keep the tears behind his closed eyelids. So he opened them and let the saltwater cascade down his cheeks, glittering in the flickering light from the TV. "Me too, Rick... Y-You saved m-me too! From those rocks in that cave...from—from dying on our last adventure... And—And even before that...back in the beginning... I was s-so lonely...and sad... And you came and ad-adopted me, and now I'm so happy, Rick. You make me so happy."

"Me too," Rick cooed, kissing the boy's forehead and caressing along his face tenderly, wiping up those tears. "I'm happy too, Morty."

"Hohh...Rick..." the boy whined, tilting his head to capture the older man's lips again.

Rick dove into that embrace with everything he had, cradling the teen to himself, devouring the sweetness of his mouth, caressing every square inch of warm body he could reach. But not once did he employ too much pressure or squeeze too hard. He kept his touches firm, but gentle, his hands and body needy, but not overly demanding.

Though, inevitably, their slow but passionate make out session devolved into heated caresses. Their ragged breaths began tearing through their throats. Their bodies started to squirm and press insistently against one another. Desire for one another screamed through their veins, thudded rapidly in their chests, and roared loudly in their ears. And when Morty whined and sat up on Rick's groin only to rotate his hips and press down on it as hard as he could in attempts to relieve a little pressure on them both, Rick knew they were about to dive headlong into each other, and he shivered, realizing that things were only just beginning.

"E-Easy, Morty. Hang on," he said, sitting up and rolling the boy off of his lap and onto the couch cushions. "H-Hang on, just wait. I'll be right back." His lanky form disappeared through the kitchen, his white lab coat flowing out behind him in his haste, leaving Morty to shiver and wrap the throw blanket around his wings and shoulders.

With Rick's body and heat gone, the boy suddenly felt way too exposed. It was as if over time, Rick had become a part of himself, and when that part was missing, Morty felt incomplete, lonely, cold, and isolated. He didn't have to wait long for his other half, his warmth, to return, however, as the old scientist rushed back into the room carrying a silver metallic jar. He placed it down on the coffee table beside the empty can of 7-UP.

With a little too much haste, Rick pulled off his lab coat and tossed it across the nearby chair followed by his teal shirt and white undershirt. His belt clinked when he undid it, and the zipper on his brown slacks sounded loud over the soft droning still coming from the TV. Rick divested himself of his pants, leaving himself in only his boxers. His next move was to approach Morty, kneeling in front of him beside the couch and slowly pressing the blanket back over his shoulders and wings, exposing him once again.

Rick's eyes drank in the sight of his little Morty, biting his lip and curling in on himself shyly. The teen was so adorable but so sexy at the same time. A beguiling combination.

Gently, Rick reached back in and took the boy's shirt in both hands, drawing it up and over his head, helping each arm through, then standing and pulling the stretchy fabric up and off of the kid's fluffy wings. Kneeling back down, he tossed the article of clothing aside, uncaring where it landed, and reached for Morty's pants next. Leaning in, he placed kisses all along the boy's chest while he undid his custom-made bluejeans. The soft scent of the soap the kid liked to use was mixed enticingly with a light musky smell of salty sweat. It teased his olfactory senses, and he took a compulsive lick at that incredibly soft skin along Morty's hollow collarbone. The light salt and soft flesh flavor rivaled the delicious sample of the kid's soda pop lips, and Rick couldn't tell which one he liked better.

As he partook of Morty's softly tender skin, he gently tugged the boy's stretchy pants downward, caressing his hands over small hips, lean but plush thighs, and slender legs as he dragged the boxers along with them. Every inch of skin was powdery soft, smooth, and hairless—like newborn baby skin—but stretched taut over such an alluring body that it had Rick sweating and his hands shaking.

The pants and underwear were tossed aside as the shirt had been, and Rick leaned away to finally lay his eyes on his little Morty.

The sleek body on display before him blew him away. It was nothing compared to watching the kid bathing that one time, through a small monitor at a distance, or an apathetic clinical examination. Morty was sleek and slender, his skin a pale peach and powdery and soft, but flushed with a mix of embarrassment and desire that Rick could no longer mistake. His erection was proportionate to the size of his body, looking swollen and tantalizing, and Rick's mouth positively watered at the sight of it. And Morty's wings. Those beautiful wings were splayed outward instead of being kept tucked against his back, haloing his body with elegance and grace.

" _Fucking divine..._ " Rick murmured, eyes wide and soaking the sight in, burning the image into his retinas for all time.

Tipping forward, he brought their mouths together, sliding his hands around soft sides and up along a slender back, dallying his fingertips around the downy feathers at the base of Morty's wings. The boy moaned into his mouth and leaned into the embrace, reaching his own hands up and drawing his fingers through wild, silvery-blue hair.

" _Want you, Morty..._ " Rick whispered against soft lips, tugging the boy closer to his chest and sliding one hand down around a supple behind, cupping it lightly. " _Wanted you for_ ** _so_** _long..._ "

" _Yeah, Rick..._ " Morty whispered back, clinging to his shoulders and nibbling along his lower lip teasingly. " _M-Me too... W-Want you, I mean... I want you, Rick..._ "

The old scientist chuckled warmly at the kid's awkwardness and kissed him deeply for another long couple of moments, just for good measure. Pulling away, he stood and sat back on the couch, turning and laying down lengthwise. With subtle motions, he encouraged Morty to climb up and kneel over his chest, then gently coaxed him to slide forward enough to where Rick could easily tip his head up and put teasing kisses along his inner thighs. His large, warm hands stroked Morty's lower back and curved down over his backside, giving it small enticing squeezes.

With a low chuckle, Rick pulled the teen closer and opened his mouth, running a wet tongue right up along Morty's erection. The kid stiffened and moaned loudly, reaching a hand out to steady himself along the back of the couch.

"Yeah, Morty...you know it..." Rick mumbled, lips brushing the hot, silky organ in front of his face. "Put it in my mouth, Morty," he suggested with a devious smirk. "It's standing too stiff for me to get my lips around it without use of my hands." He punctuated that statement by swirling his preoccupied hands around Morty's rear and squeezing it again, molding the supple flesh with his fingers.

The teenager whined and bit his lip, head swimming with desire so strong, it overpowered his sense of modesty. He wrapped his own fingers around his stiff length and tilted it downward, aiming the weeping tip directly at Rick's smirking lips.

" _Aw yeah...good boy..._ " the old man whispered, his tongue darting out to quickly lap across the flushed glans, stringing pre-cum into his mouth when he drew away. " _Good boy..._ " He opened his mouth and Morty obediently tilted his hips forward and sank his length between thin but scorching hot lips.

Rick sucked him in slowly and carefully, running his tongue the length of the swollen arousal and loving how it was just the perfect size to be a mouthful and prod firmly at the back of his throat. Morty's pre coated his tongue for how much he was leaking in need, and the soft, lightly salty-sweet taste had Rick's mouth watering for more.

Was **everything** about Morty absolutely fucking amazing?

...Probably...

That much was evident when the boy's wings fluttered, and he cooed beautifully as Rick gently sucked at his sex.

"Fuck, Morty," the old man whined needfully, releasing the teen's cock and taking to licking hotly up along it. "You're so perfect, baby bird. Taste so sweet, baby, so delicious," he moaned, kissing down one inner thigh and back up the other. "Never had someone like you, Morty...skin so luxurious..." he rambled, stroking up and down along the teen's back and sides, cupping his little bottom, squeezing at tender thighs.

Long gasping moans slipped up through Morty's throat, his body arching into the touches on its own, his wings caught between wanting to spread wide and folding tight behind his back. Instead, they flexed out and in, not really flapping, but unable to keep from resting.

"Oh, fuck, look at you, Morty," Rick muttered in awe, staring up at his little body shuddering above him, wings unable to keep still. "So fuckin' sensual, my little angel... So beautiful...perfect... Mmph..." he mumbled, pressing his mouth back along Morty's flushed length, feeling it throb hard against his lips with the sudden attention.

"Oh, Rick!" the teen cooed, stiffening and gripping the back of the couch in one hand and losing the fingers of his other in wiry strands of hair.

Rick moaned and lapped at Morty's desire, blindly reaching a hand out and fumbling along the coffee table, searching for that mysterious jar he'd run off to get earlier. A hollow metallic clank and clatter sounded when he accidentally knocked the empty can of 7-UP over in his hasty, lust-addled search. Finally finding the jar, he worked the lid off, then dipped his fingers inside, scooping them out coated thickly in some kind of slick, thin goo that was clear with an iridescent sheen.

"W-What is that?" Morty wondered, blue eyes trailing after Rick's fingers when they dipped around behind him.

"It's a—a special lube I came up with a long time ago, Morty. Gets things real slick and easy, relaxes muscles in all the right ways, feels warm from the get-go. Even tastes good. This shit's made me a pretty penny over the years," Rick explained between mouthing little nibbles along the teen's inner thighs and over his insistent erection. "You're real small...and I'm not, so..."

There was a long pause after that, time he dedicated to suddenly wondering if what he was doing was the right thing, if it was wrong for him to be so intimate with a teenager that only came up to his lower ribcage while standing. And Rick was old enough to be the kid's fucking **grandfather**...he **was** the kid's grandfather in alternate dimensions. And his Morty was physically smaller than a "normal-sized" Morty too. Same features, same proportions, just smaller...and with wings...fucking beautiful wings.

Rick stared at them, watching them flex outward, the feathers spreading and puffing. Biting his lip, he stared up at his little Morty then, watching him huff and pant and lick his small pink lips like he was hungry. There was a look in his eyes, a look that Rick had seen before in much older partners, a look that he wouldn't think the teen knew how to pull off or could feel the emotion behind it strong enough to warrant that expression. But it was there. Plain as day. Need...desire...longing—all pronounced so strongly on the boy's face, that there were tears lining his lower eyelids and a bright flush over his cheeks and dusted over his upper chest.

Morty wanted him...he **wanted** Rick... And for a lot more than to just idly fool around.

Reality once again came slamming home, pointing out to Rick that, yes, not only did he want Morty, but the kid really did want him too. Of course he did, he even said as much. That look on his face, his own damn words...shit, why was Rick suddenly looking that gift horse in the mouth? It was just because Morty was so much smaller, that was all. That was what got Rick suddenly paranoid about his choices. But size didn't have to be an issue, especially with his homemade lubrication that he had only just been promoting as the best of the best.

Rick smirked up at Morty, rubbing his cheek along one powdery-soft inner thigh. "This'll make things a lot better for you, baby. Big as I am compared to you, you won't even have any pain at all with this stuff."

Tossing all those second guesses out of his ears to be completely forgotten (and hopefully never revisited again) he slowly rubbed a fingertip coated in the lubricant along Morty's entrance, leaving behind a trail that was slick, warm, and tingly. Morty cooed, obviously liking that sensation, and Rick felt encouraged to do more. He teased a fingertip around the puckered opening, rubbing the lube into the flesh generously, then prodded until the digit slid inside, the glide slow, making the teen sigh, close his eyes as though relieved, and shiver.

And then Rick remembered once again...Morty had had sex before, with his original Rick... Morty was used to being penetrated...he probably missed the sensation, even.

One more mild roadblock out of the way, Rick concentrated fully on opening his little assistant up with his fingers. One turned into two, moving slowly and carefully, getting the lube spread everywhere inside the boy's entrance, making sure it was doing the trick before adding another finger. As he slid the third in, he took a quick lap of the leaking cock near his face, and Morty jerked, gasping, like he forgot Rick could do that with how the teen was kneeling over his upper chest.

"Rick..." he whined, biting his lip. He took his own self in hand and directed the tip down toward the older man's lips again, whimpering a wordless plea.

Rick chuckled and grinned toothily up at him. "Just a little, Morty. I don't want you to come too soon, ya know?" He took a teasing lap along the head, licking away a generous portion of pre-cum. The kid was as leaky as a fucking faucet. The viscous liquid strung between them, and Rick leaned in, following that tether with his open mouth, closing his lips around the glans and suckling it teasingly.

"Ohhh fuck!... Hoh Rick!" the boy gasped, shuddering, his spine arching into an elegant curve, tilting his rear back onto Rick's fingers and throbbing between the old scientist's lips.

Rick hummed, bobbed his head once, then pulled away when Morty moaned loudly, thighs tensing around his shoulders. "C-Can't have you coming yet, Morty... I wanna feel you come on my cock, baby bird... Fuck yeah, you're so sexy. Shit...look at you... Damn, baby, fuck..." he rambled.

Morty cooed and squirmed, and his wings ruffled and fluttered in pleasure. The lube was making things feel so good, and there was no pain or irritation at all. He felt so open and ready, his thighs spreading wide across Rick's chest, and his wings spreading farther, back arching, small hands braced to Rick's collarbone.

Unable to take another moment of that display, Rick quickly reached down and pushed his boxers off, kicking them away from his foot. They fluttered to the floor somewhere on the other side of the coffee table. Carefully, he helped to maneuver Morty down his chest and poise over his large cock. A quick dip back into the jar of lubricant, and he slicked the clear iridescent liquid over his eager erection.

"We—We'll have to keep you on top, baby bird..." he rushed to say, too focused on how close he was to being buried inside tight heat that he'd been longing for for months to fully concentrate on his words. "You're too delicate for me to pound into the cushions. Oh, damn, fuck...what I wouldn't give for that, though... W-We'll have to figure something out later."

Rick coaxed Morty to sit down onto him, one hand to the teen's hip and one holding himself at the ready, making sure his rod was poised to be sat upon. The boy went slow, guided by Rick's sweaty hand and the praises that poured out of his mouth every inch of the way. His body was tight and slick with the special lube, his insides hugging Rick in all the right ways. Every bit of his large cock that eased inside felt hot and fantastic.

"Go...go slow...M-Morty..." he gasped, fighting to not disobey his own words and push the kid down with force.

Disciplining his Morty was apparently never his strong suit, though, since he always let the kid do pretty much what he wanted, most of the time. And right then was no exception, because Morty wiggled his little hips a fraction, moaned wantonly, and forced himself downward quickly. He sat flush on the old scientist's lap, panting and groaning, a shiver zipping up his spine and trembling out through his wings, making them rustle softly.

Inserted to the hilt inside the tight, slick, swallowing heat of his little Morty, his companion that he'd been pining for since day one, Rick's eyes rolled back into his head, and he groaned loudly, cupping the teen's small bottom in his large, sweltering hands.

"Ru-Ruined...I'm—I'm ruined..." he mumbled, rolling his head back and forth along the arm of the couch. "Fuck, Morty, you—you ruined me, baby... Fuck, I'm gone...that's it...no turning back... It's no good, baby...I-I'll never be satisfied by anyone else again..." He moaned and licked his lips. "I g-get what that agent Rick was saying now..."

The soft brush of feathers trailed along his cheek, and he opened his eyes, casting the bleary orbs down to look at his sweet little sidekick. Morty's blue eyes were watery, but sparkling like stars twinkling in the vast expanse of space. His wing caressed along Rick's face some more, then trailed the tips of his feathers along the old man's chest as he drew them away.

"Me—Me too, Rick... I f-feel the same way..." His voice was thick and a little scratchy, like the moment was so profound for him that it was hard for him to speak through his emotions.

"Baby, com'ere..." Rick whined, leaning up and reaching for him.

Morty fell forward into the old scientist's embrace, meeting him halfway, their lips crashing upon one another like two celestial bodies colliding and fusing into one. Rick wrapped his lanky arms around his small lover and held him firmly in that half-sitting position, one arm laced up between his wings and cupping at the back of his downy head. They held one another tightly, lost to each other, to the moment, to the world. Their bodies moved as one, Rick rolling his hips upward and Morty pressing his butt downward, meeting in the middle over and over again in a symphony of motion and soft slick sounds with their moans mingling in each other's mouths.

Morty was so sensual and beautiful, his noises pure and downright angelic. He was soft and delicate on the outside, but tight and searing on the inside, and he was everything Rick had ever needed in another being. Praises poured from his mouth, both dirty and loving, but all encouraging.

He needed more. He needed it all. He needed everything...couldn't get enough.

And Morty...Morty needed it deeper. Even though Rick was probably poking at his diaphragm at that point. But the boy seemed to love it, seemed to crave the sensation of being invaded, begging for it, even.

Rick gave him what he wanted, laying back down to the couch and arching his hips up into the small winged teen on his lap, holding his upper arms in place as a counter balance.

"Y-Yes!" Morty wailed, head tilting back and mouth falling open. "Oh, Rick...fuck...Rick..."

"Yeah, Morty..." the old scientist answered the call, leaning in to lick along the kid's exposed throat. "I got you, baby bird...got what you want...what you need..."

"Need you, Rick...need you...always..." the boy muttered absently, tilting his head to nuzzle against the side of Rick's face while the old man mouthed along his neck.

"Mm anything you want, baby bird..." Rick mumbled in reply, leaning around to capture soft, soda pop lips again and devour them with slow movements of his mouth and sensual curls of his tongue.

Whining into that hot mouth, Morty curled forward over Rick's chest, forcing him to lay fully again. The genius reached to run his fingers through the brown feathers of the kid's wings, pressing them all the way through and scraping his nails delicately over the skin underneath. Morty's reaction was to moan loudly, lift away from Rick's lips, tense tighter than a bow string, and slam his ass down hard onto the old man's groin. Rick's reaction to that was to then emit loud, lewd moans, his eyes rolling and head tipping back over the arm of the couch.

"Fuuuuck, angel!" he cried, teasing his fingertips through the boy's wings even more, trying to find more sensitive spots. He struck gold down near the base where the wings were attached to Morty's back, on the underside, where the feathers were smaller, fluffier, and softer. A few tender strokes to those areas had Morty melting like a snowman on a hot day on Rick's lap. His coos were the sweetest auditory candy that Rick's old ears ate up like they'd never hear anything that good again.

"F-Feels...so...so good, Rick..." Morty groaned, shivering when the huge cock inside him gave a very interested throb.

"That's right, baby," Rick praised, grasping hold of the top of the boy's wings near the base and squeezing gently. "I'll make you feel so—so good, Morty. Gonna give you **all** the pleasure... **all** the fun... Gonna make sure you come flying back for more, angel."

"R-Rick! Oh!" Morty keened, stiffening when the scientist gripped his wings like that. His small hands lifted and reached above his shoulders as though he was intending to reach back and grab the old man's hands to stop him, but then he aborted the move halfway and just sat there on Rick's lap, frozen, mouth open and panting. Long, needy moans poured out from between his lips along with a little dribble of drool while his eyes rolled up.

All the while, Rick continued to thrust into his stiffened body, his large, heavy meat caressing every sensitive area inside the teen's entrance with sureness and precision.

"That's it, Morty! Feel it, baby, feel it!"

"R-R-Rick...it...it f-feels...so..."

"Yeah, baby, yeah...take that cock... Such a good boy, Morty. You like it when I hold your wings like this, huh?" he asked teasingly, squeezing a little more at the top edge of the wings near the base.

"Mm-hmm!" the boy moaned loudly, stiffening again, clenching down hard on the erection buried to the hilt at the moment. "Love it... Love you in-inside too, Rick... L-Love it all, Rick..."

"Fuck yeah, baby bird... Show me how much you love it... You like to ride me, don't you, Morty? Like to cling on me and ride around on me?"

"Uh-huh! I-I do, Rick!"

"Good little birdie... Why don't you ride your Rick right now, hm? Ride me, Morty..."

Rick's voice was like silky seduction, easing into Morty's ears and coercing him to action. He nodded and readjusted his position a little, reaching his hands down to brace against the old scientist's chest and spreading his thighs a little wider around his hips. His wings lifted higher, spread wider, like he was getting ready to take flight, but they only stayed in that position while he tipped up and sat back down, impaling himself slowly on his big Rick's slippery cock.

Rick stared up at the vision, heart pounding wildly, excitement stirred hot and heavy in his gut while the pleasure rolled over his body from his little Morty rocking on his lap. "Good boy...oh, fuck, such a good little boy..." he mumbled, hands sliding away from those beautiful wings and cupping along slender thighs, tracing them up and down reverently. "So good at riding me, baby..."

Soft moans rose up in Morty's throat, heavy pants left him feeling tingly and a little weightless, and the pleasure was so amazing, unlike anything he'd ever felt before. Even his original, who he loved and had amazing sex with, wasn't as big as his new Rick, couldn't press in every direction at once or go so deep, never quite was able to be a constant, firm pressure against his prostate like his new Rick was.

Morty tilted back a little and held the top of the couch with one hand and Rick's wrist with the other. His thrusts came faster, his moans louder. Sweat sparkled on his flushed skin, shining in the dull, flickering light of the TV. He worked himself up wantonly, head lolling to the side and back, eyes closed in concentration. The pressure inside was almost too much, but he craved more, had to have it—like he was starving and Rick was the full course meal. His bounces on Rick's lap became hurried, near frantic, and his breaths tore though his throat loudly. The old man's hands on his thighs squeezed tightly, and it only accentuated the burn in them. They began trembling with the effort to keep going, and Morty's thrusts finally faltered. He collapsed forward to brace both hands to Rick's chest again, panting hard. His feathers were fluffed and ruffled, even the downy, hair-like feathers on his head were puffing and looking wild and unkempt.

Wordlessly, Rick cupped his large, hot hands to the teen's hips and took over, thrusting up into him quickly, hitting that delicate gland inside dead on every time and making Morty cry out in bliss. The slick slide of his cherished Rick's cock pushing into him and through him was incredible, and Morty could not contain his shouts of euphoric pleasure, tightening up rapidly.

"That's it, baby bird, fuck yeah! Come on my cock, Morty! Show me how good it feels!"

Morty trembled, and his wings folded inward as the tension mounted, higher and higher in his burning muscles.

"F-Fuck yes...do it... My good little Morty...sweet angel... C-Come on your Rick..." the old man pleaded, his own thighs shaking, stomach tightening—

Morty arched hard, and his wings splayed wide, shaking with a light rustling sound as his orgasm gripped his entire being like a vice, squeezing the pleasure out of every pore with every thundering pound of his heart. His milky cream shot up along Rick's slender chest, landing in thick puddles on the ashen skin.

"Y-Yes! Fuck, yes! That's my baby bird! Ohhh fuuuuck, Mortyyy!" Rick cried, his own climax racing to take second place. He came so hard, his body curled up and his limbs curled in, wrapping around Morty and tucking him tightly against himself, burying his head alongside his sexy little companion's. He could not remember the last time he had come so hard, especially in that moment where his world was exploding in pleasure.

They collapsed together, the symphony of their lovemaking building to the crescendo of their climaxes and ending with the erratic drum beats of their hearts and the clashing cymbals of their panting breaths and weakened, low moans. Rick drew Morty down with him, ending up in a heaving, sweaty heap on the couch.

The late time of night was ever more apparent when Rick blinked tiredly and rolled his head to the side along the arm of the couch. He realized the channel on the TV had gone to static, the broadcasting day ended in whatever dimension it originally aired. The low, steady hiss droned through the room, aiding in the calming of their minds and bodies until they both laid boneless and tired.

Rick caressed Morty all over slowly in their afterglow—his wings, hair, skin—instilling that comfort into him that he felt as well, sharing in their warmth and closeness. They laid like that for a while until Rick shifted slightly, and his softening cock slipped out of the boy's body, his warm cum trailing after, slowly oozing down over Morty's perineum.

"You tired, buddy?" he asked, lifting his head enough to bury his lips into downy hair. His new lover merely nodded his head, not even lifting it off of Rick's chest, brushing his cheek solidly along the older man's skin with the slow motion. "Aww come on, then..."

Carefully, Rick maneuvered up, resting his companion to the opposite side of the couch. Without a word, he headed to the kitchen, but returned immediately, a hand towel in tow. Gently, he cleaned them both of any slimy residues from their tryst, then wrapped the throw blanket around Morty's small, naked form. Hardly an effort was put into picking him up, and Rick carted him over to the bedroom where he laid the boy on his own bed, it being too much of a hassle to climb up to the loft.

Rick leaned over him, stroking a hand over the teen's hair and face with soft, tender paws of his fingers. "Get—Get some sleep now, baby," he hummed quietly, watching the boy's eyes blink tiredly up at him.

"Wh-What about you?" Morty whined, lifting a hand out of the blanket to clasp onto Rick's, keeping him from pulling away too quickly.

The old scientist smiled down at him with warmth and affection. "I still got stuff I need to work on. I took a break when you asked me to stay with you, but I really need to get back to it now. I got shit on a timer. Don't worry, I'll—I'll be in later, okay? Get some rest." He leaned down and laid a few kisses along the kid's forehead, then trailed them over his lips delicately. "My beautiful little angel... Fuck, Morty..." he moaned, deepening the embrace, kissing him longer. With regret, Rick pulled away, then tucked the blanket around his little chin, patted it, then turned and left, closing the door softly to let his little winged Morty sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the anticipation and build up throughout the story made this chapter worth it. And I hope this chapter was worthy of that anticipation and build up. I hope I haven't taken too long to get to this point and upset anyone that wanted things to move along faster... But I also hope that you'll continue to return for more chapters, because this story isn't over yet! LOL I really don't want this to turn into the classic "it's boring now that they're together" deal. XD But hopefully you won't find the rest of this story boring because there's more drama, angst, and lovemaking on the way! LOL This is just the beginning of their relationship! ❤️❤️
> 
> Also, as another gift for Christmas, I tried to draw my little Morty W-005 so folks can see how I picture him. There's a normal view of his head/hair, and a closeup of his hair so you can see the downy feathers. I'm NOT GOOD at drawing Rick and Morty. LOL I tried, though. You can view it here: [Morty's Downy Hair & Closeup](https://i.postimg.cc/QCcbBTtS/Morty-Sketch-with-Hair-Closeup-2-1000.png)
> 
> The second picture is of Morty, hiding in his wings. It's a front view. [Morty Hiding](https://i.postimg.cc/Qt2mxbXH/Morty-Hiding-in-Wings-600.png)
> 
> I hope you like them! Merry Christmas, everyone! 🎄🎁


	14. The Bird in the Bathtub

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, everyone!! 🎊🎉🎊

The passage of time was a bit uncertain for Morty, so he had no idea how long he had been asleep after Rick tucked him in and he zonked out a minute later. All he could tell was that it was still dark outside the windows in the bedroom, but there was the faintest tint of pre-dawn blue beginning to glow, barely highlighting the treetops.

Another thing of note was that there was no Rick lying next to him in bed. Had he not promised to come in after he was done with his work? What could have kept him away from cuddling up with Morty right after they had sex for the first time?

All other thoughts froze, and Morty blushed.

They had had sex for the first time... **amazing** sex. Mind-blowing, toe-curling, wing-thrashing sex. He shivered and bit his lip, hiding his face under the blanket. He was no stranger to getting fucked, nor was Rick a stranger to fucking, so instead of some slow, tame sex a normal, slightly shy couple would have had for their first time, Rick and Morty had apparently done a little of that, but then went full steam ahead.

Morty giggled to himself, feeling his face heating up under the cover.

Well, that was just how he and Rick operated. Things were tame, but once in a while they flew off the deep end pretty quickly. It made sense for it to also happen in bed...well...on the couch...

Not that he was complaining. No Sir-ee Bob. Never.

He had finally gotten what he'd been wanting for months. He had finally gotten that big Rick to put his big, gentle hands all over his body. The frigid ice had been melted off of their hearts, the soupy fog blown away from their eyes, and the deep-seeded uncertainty had been erased from their souls.

And it was all because Morty had finally gotten tired of it all.

He had been watching his new Rick for a while, noted his actions, reactions, and responses to things Morty did and said. It hadn't taken too long for the teenager to understand the subtleties of Rick's behavior...and sometimes the not-so-subtle ways the old man acted toward him too.

He had Rick figured out.

It had been the same with his original too. Morty was the one who fell for his original first, then, not long after, realized the winged old man liked him in return. The guy had tried to deny it, so it was up to Morty to lure his original into bed with him. But getting his stubborn new Rick to acknowledge him in the same way, though, had been proving to be a challenge. Holding hands, little kisses on the cheek, warm hugs that bordered on sensual with the way both of them trailed their hands along each other...nothing was working. By that time, he and his original would have been fucking for weeks.

Morty had been beyond frustrated.

Then, Rick's birthday was approaching, and Morty had deviously concocted a plan. He'd soften the old man up with sweet words, call him "Grampa" the way his original used to find endearing, and give him a heart-felt, homemade gift. Then he'd flirt the fuck outta the guy and present himself as irresistible bait. The "Grampa" thing didn't work out so well, unfortunately, and on top of that, Rick seemed to be so fucking obtuse, that he couldn't take the hint.

Shocking, for the smartest man in the universe.

Morty was laying himself out on a silver platter with an apple in his mouth, for fuck's sake, and Rick blatantly ignored his flirts. Not even giving the old bastard a sensual touch and kiss on the cheek, or speaking to him with low, clearly aroused tones did the trick! He could tell Rick was shaken with the behavior, could tell he was being affected by it, but the old fart just wouldn't snag that eager bait!

And so, beyond frustrated, Morty had decided to just go for broke the next night. It had been a little spontaneous, honestly. He hadn't planned on doing so right at that moment when he woke up with Rick kindly covering him up on the couch. But he wasn't going to give up and let Rick walk away from him anymore. He could tell the old scientist liked him by that point; the guy just needed to either realize it himself, or open up about it. So Morty decided to help him out on that...and himself too, for that matter.

There had only been one moment when Morty had to suddenly worry that he'd been wrong the whole time. That pivotal moment when he had kissed at the subtly wrinkled skin on the old man's neck, caressed his ashen face with his feathers, and clutched at his chest in desire. That was the moment when Rick took hold of his hand and turned his face away from the blatant advances. It was right then, that Morty feared the worst, that he'd completely misinterpreted everything. Either that, or Rick had been so wrapped up in his own denial that he couldn't allow for them to be so close. That was when Morty actually decided to say something. He had to. He couldn't allow things to lay spoiled any more between them...could not allow their relationship to rot them apart from the inside. He'd gathered up his courage and laid all of his cards on the table, face up. And Rick...he too, slowly, carefully, laid each of his own cards down, flipping them up one at a time, until at last, his entire hand was showing. Everything was finally out in the open, the air cleared, the hesitation no longer required.

And the result?...

Feeling his face heating up even hotter, Morty giggled and squirmed around inside the warm cocoon of the blanket giddily.

The result had been fucking awesome.

He poked his messy head of feathery hair out from the blanket again, taking a gulp of fresh air. But where had Rick gone after all was said and done? Was he still in the lab? Did Morty only sleep for a few minutes and think hours had passed, and as such, Rick wasn't due to come back yet?

Uncertain but curious, Morty tucked the blanket around himself and wiggled to the edge of the bed, standing on wobbly legs. He made his way through the dark house to the lab, instantly relieved when the sliding door hissed open to reveal his tall, lanky Rick, hunched over a workbench and working on something. Small clinks and clanks echoed off the smooth walls as the old scientist moved his arms about, tinkering with something in front of himself.

"Rick?"

Rick turned and smiled warmly at the call, every feature on his face upturned and light-hearted. Even the crows feet at the edges of his eyes seemed to be smiling. But when the old scientist realized Morty's state of dress, still clad in only the blanket from the living room chair, he also then realized that he never went to bed as promised.

"Shit, sorry, Morty," Rick apologized readily. "I-I just got caught up in my project. After we-uh..." He cleared his throat. "Anyway, I felt really fuckin' inspired, so...yeah..."

Morty smiled at him, drawing the blanket tighter around his cheeks and blushing. He couldn't help recalling his original Rick, the way that old man would get sudden bouts if inspiration after a rigorous fucking session. It must have been a "Rick" thing. "I-It's fine, Rick. Don't sweat it."

In being in the room now, it seemed as though Rick's attention was able to switch away from his project and focus entirely on Morty. He picked the blanket-bundled boy up and cradled him against his chest, planting kisses on his lips and nuzzling into his soft, rounded cheek. His mouth moved of its own volition, trailing little nips down the teen's exposed neck and shoulder.

"So fuckin' delicious, baby. Ohh son of a bitch, you're perfect. Sweet skin..." His tender kisses walked up Morty's throat. "Sweet lips..." he mumbled before pressing their closed mouths together intimately. "Tasty tongue..." Rick moaned, sliding his moist tongue into the boy's willing mouth for a sample. "Mmm you're so fine, baby bird... Fuck, you do things to me, Morty..."

They kissed deeply, lips slotted together like they were made to fit one another. Their breaths intermingled between their faces, turning up the heat on their passion until Rick was trying to count each tooth in Morty's mouth, and the teen's arms were wrapped around the old man's head, fingers buried in his wild hair and giving it little tantalizing tugs.

Morty knew Rick could feel his erection through the folds of the blanket pressed against his stomach because the old man groaned and held him tighter against himself, grinding his belly into the teen's crotch. It was obvious the scientist loved Morty's little moans and coos and how his wings trembled in the blanket and feathers puffed up out over it, because he grumbled approvingly in his rough voice and licked through the boy's mouth like he was devouring all those little sounds like candy.

A moment later, Rick pulled away, pressing their foreheads together and panting hotly along Morty's wet lips. "How about a bath, baby, huh? You haven't been washed up after our little romp on the couch. Shit, I should be taking better care of my little angel, shouldn't I?"

Morty giggled at all the praises and attention, nodding. As rowdy as he was feeling, being in Rick's arms and given such sexy attention, a bath did sound very good right then too.

Not even bothering to set him down, Rick carted Morty downstairs to the sub-lab bathroom and to the very over-sized round tub he'd made for his companion. With a little maneuvering, he got the blanket unraveled from around Morty's body, then lowered him right into the warm water. He let the kid go once he was mostly submerged, then stripped as fast as possible before he stepped over to the supply shelf and plucked off a few things to aid in getting clean before he hopped into the water to join his small partner.

Rick carefully ran a soapy cloth over Morty's delicate body and soaked in his soft noises of appreciation and pleasure. Moving on to his brown wings, Rick had the boy turn around and lean his upper chest against the edge of the tub so he could better reach the feathered appendages.

Morty crossed his arms under his head and laid a cheek to them, sighing and letting his body from the ribs down dangle in the very warm water. He spread his wings out and closed his eyes, feeling Rick's fingers run through his feathers with tenderness and precision, preening them like the boy had showed him before, during the trial-run of their partnership. It felt so good, he shivered.

"You have such a gentle touch, Rick. I love your hands."

The old scientist only chuckled and continued. Those gentle hands moved to where the wings connected into Morty's back and caressed at the incredibly soft skin and downy plumage there. Morty moaned and arched his spine, spreading his wings wider for Rick to have more access. He could feel the old man's eyes on him as he did so and bit his lip, wondering how hard it would be to seduce him with just motions of his body.

" _Mm so sexy, baby,_ ** _fuck_** _..._ " came Rick's quiet, gravely voice, laced with awe and rumbling desire.

Apparently, it wouldn't be too hard at all.

A hand slipped down and cupped then rubbed Morty's small backside, and he felt the strange lube that had been rubbed all over there a few hours ago getting slick again from the water. Rick's slightly calloused, but tender hand rubbed the lube away from the boy's soft cheeks, then a finger dipped in between them, sliding through the slick and teasing at the small entrance hidden there. Morty moaned and wiggled his hips in encouragement, still in the mood to seduce the old man with his body, and Rick dipped inside, so willingly being lured in. The long finger worked around very gently, then crooked a bit and dragged out, eliciting a soft, dulcet moan from Morty's throat.

"F-Fuck, baby bird, you make such delicious noises for me," Rick groaned behind him, his warm breath ghosting over the boy's nape. "Mm gotta clean you out, okay? Sorry I didn't last night—I was still knocked flat by your sexy little body writhing all over my cock."

Morty moaned at the dirty talk and felt his face and body heat up just from those words. He was sure his skin was flushing, and sure that Rick could see it all over his shoulders and up his neck, even down along the center of his back and between his wings.

"Yeah, you like that?" Rick grumbled smugly, confirming the teen's suspicion. "You wanna ride my cock again, angel? Fuck, you're so hot, Morty. Shit..."

That teasing finger returned and gently fucked into Morty's entrance, sliding through the slick still inside him until the motion began to accrue friction. When the sensation just started to pass the point of slightly uncomfortable, the old man stopped and leaned up along Morty's back. A filthy voice whispered into his flushed ear, " _I got you all cleaned out, but now I'm just gonna fill you all up again, sweetheart. Can't say I didn't try._ " Then a wet tongue licked along the shell of that ear, making the boy shiver and goosebumps sprout all along his skin despite the warm water.

Morty moaned again, shuddering. "Y-You're so dirty, Rick. You—You didn't seem like you could be so nasty before we started doing this," he mumbled, peeking over his shoulder, a little pout on his pink lips.

Rick tipped close and winked at him. "The way a man behaves in the bedroom is not the same way he behaves outside of it, baby. You don't like the naughty-talk? Heh!"

Morty's blush ran deeper. "I...n-never said that..." he mumbled, turning back away and resting his head to his folded arms again. Though he hesitated to think of his original Rick in that moment, he couldn't help but compare them, even though he knew his new Rick wouldn't appreciate that. But he had to reason that Ricks in general probably were into dirty talking to their lovers, no matter what the Ricks' temperament happened to be—kind or aggressive or smug or evil. Because his original liked to dirty talk him, and he was wild and fun and spunky. Now Morty knew that his new Rick liked to say dirty things too, despite being warm and gentle and kindhearted. So he could only conclude that all Ricks were into it. Not that that was a bad thing...it was just...observation.

"Good..." the old man grumbled heatedly in reply to the boy's hesitant admission, right near his sensitive ear. His large hands returned to washing off Morty's small body, the touches turning sensual, those hands running over the boy's privates and small heaving chest and little peaked nipples.

Morty could feel his heart fluttering quickly, like the little bird that he was, and his breaths were panted and heavy. "R-Rick..."

"Yeah, baby...tell me what you need..." the genius behind him mumbled teasingly near his ear.

"I...I-I need you..."

"What else, little angel? What do you need?"

"In...inside... I-I need to f-feel you...inside..."

"Inside what?"

"Muh...m-me..."

"Good enough. Wait here."

With the gush of sloshed water, Rick pulled himself out of the tub and rushed from the room, then was back less than a minute later, splashing back into the water again and setting the metal jar of special lubricant at the edge of the tub beside Morty.

"I'll need to keep some of this in every room of the house and lab now, hm? Save time having to go get it."

Morty blushed as Rick chuckled deeply and pulled him into his arms, kissing him with passion, sensually gliding his tongue inside the boy's mouth and lapping up his delicious flavor.

"Fuck so good, Morty, baby. So fuckin' good... Mmmn..." he hummed, kissing his companion even more.

Rick lifted the boy out of the bath and laid him down against the heated floor on his back, legs still dangling into the water and wings spread out to either side, then slid between his knees while still in the tub, kneeling on the underwater bench seat. His long fingers dipped into the jar of lube before he brought them to the teen's backside, slipping between the tender cheeks and preparing his small lover gently.

"Th-That stuff feels so good... Oh, Rick..." Morty cooed, closing his eyes and parting his legs a little further, giving Rick more room.

"Oh, yeah, you know it, baby." He bent down and walked slow, nibbling kisses along the boy's chest, stopping at a small nipple and curling his tongue around it sensually while he slicked his fingers through Morty's opening. Soft, wet noises filled the acoustic room, the sound alone a naughty reminder of what they were about to do... **were** doing.

When the boy was ready, Rick stood up and sat on the edge of the tub beside Morty and easily lifted him up by his underarms, positioning him over his very hard lap. Morty braced his knees on either side of Rick and dangled his long toes down into the water next to the older man's knees, supporting himself with just the tip of the scientist's arousal barely poking at his entrance.

Rick slathered more lube along his thick erection, then nodded. His groans erupted, loud and long, when Morty lowered himself down, sinking easily onto Rick's lap.

"S-Still haven't thought of a way to bend you over and give you a good pounding without breaking you, baby. You—You're gonna have to settle for sitting on me 'till I do. Mm fuck, yeah. Ohhh Morty, fuuuuck..."

Moaning sweetly, Morty lifted and lowered himself along Rick's big cock. He felt every ridge and vein gliding through his insides and filling him up so full. With that lube, there was no pain or sting or burn like he'd feel when his original took him in bed. Not that he didn't love having sex with his original, but sex with his new Rick was blowing his mind. It was infinitely more satisfying than the first time he masturbated to the thought of his new Rick fucking him. Actually, it was immeasurably more satisfying than **any** masturbation session he'd had to date.

"S-So good...so good for me, b-baby... Fuuuck, you're doing so good, angel..." Rick praised as he stroked the boy's thighs and cupped his butt and squeezed gently, feeling the slick thickness of his cock with the edges of his hands as it slid in and out of his precious little Morty. "Yeah, take it..." Huffs and moans left his throat as he leaned close and mumbled against the side of Morty's face, "Take it baby, yeah...take my cock, baby bird...nice an' deep... Mmmm fuck yeeesss..." he hissed.

He slid his hands up along Morty's slender back and cupped them against the base of his wings, pushing them upward and drawing his hands along them, ruffling the feathers in his wake. Pulling his hands against them, he drew the wings toward himself.

"Put 'em around me, angel. Wrap those beautiful wings around me."

Morty gasped and arched again, feeling Rick slide deep and his words strike a wonderful chord in him. He curled his wings around Rick's shoulders and crossed them across his back, the tips curled up against the floor, and hugged his older lover as tight as his hollow bones would allow.

"Fuck, yes!" Rick groaned loudly, drawing his hands down and smoothing the feathers back out then reaching up further along Morty's back and pushing his human arms to wrap all the way around his neck. "Hold on, baby... Rick's gonna take you for a ride."

"R-Rick! Oh **oh**!" Morty cried and held on for dear life as the scientist cupped his bottom again and thrust up into him with deep, long strokes. He arched his back and gasped and cooed loudly. His wings flexed and pulled, tightening their hold around Rick's entire upper body. His arms lifted at the elbows, and he buried his small, thin fingers into Rick's wild silvery-blue hair. Pulling tighter, he cradled Rick's head and face against his throat as he craned his neck and shouted his pleasure to the smooth walls of the bathroom, his voice echoing pleasantly in Rick's ears.

The genius licked wide and flat up along the artery in Morty's neck, feeling it flutter beneath his tongue. "Fuck, yeah, baby. Sing me a song, angel. Tell Rick how much you like it!"

"Hhooh Rick! Rick!"

And he would have sang more, would have shouted his pleasure and praises all night and day, but Rick seemed to want to kiss his little lover even more in that moment, evident when he lifted his head away from Morty's throat and devoured his mouth, groaning deep and pressing the boy down onto his cock, holding it inside, balls deep. Morty squirmed and cooed and huffed breaths through his nose against Rick's face, but the old man held him still and kissed him breathless. The boy's wings trembled and fluttered against Rick's back, the feathers making rustling sounds.

Rick groaned louder and drew his lips away finally. "Ohh yeah. Yeah, yeah, my sweet little angel..."

He let go of Morty's butt and stroked down over his calves to the soles of his feet, cradling the delicate toes between his thumbs and fingers, massaging them gently until the boy curled them around his thumbs and held tight. Moaning, Rick gave them a little squeeze then drew his hands away and slid them back up the boy's small body, cupping against his hips and waist then sliding further up, trailing his large hands all up and down his wings with firm but still gentle swipes. He knew he was ruffling the plumage badly, but he would make up for it later by smoothing it out again. By Morty's medially-high-pitched moans, Rick could tell he was enjoying it anyway.

Morty pulled away from more impassioned kisses and gasped for a much-needed breath. "R-Rick! Oh, Rick! F-Feels so, so good!"

The super genius rolled his hips up into the teenager, barely stroking himself through the tight body on his lap. "Fuck yeah, baby."

Morty had never felt so taken care of, so alive, so full. He had never felt as though his entire body was being made love to, but that Rick... **his** Rick...was loving him so completely, from top to bottom. The old man was cherishing Morty's entire body, even his sounds. It was all so wonderful that tears sprung to the edges of his eyes, and he squeezed them tightly to keep the liquid from spilling free. He had loved his original Rick so much...but he had never felt so completely encompassed by love in return in the way his new Rick touched and kissed and pleasured him. He had never wanted to give up his original...and now he never wanted to give up his new Rick either.

"Rick! Ugh please, more! Please more, Rick!"

The genius scientist groaned and slid his hands back down to cup Morty's ass again and lifted as he canted his hips backward, drawing out nearly all the way. "Whatever you want, angel." He thrust up into him right as he pushed the boy's hips back down, plunging himself deep. Morty arched and shouted in bliss, pleasure shuddering up through his body and radiating out through his arms and wings. "Fuck yeah, baby. Oh, that's the good stuff. Mmm shit, yeah..."

Rick helped Morty to set a rhythm, guiding him with his hands while he rocked his hips up and back, plunging that extra bit deeper on every downswing.

"Ride me..." he groaned, slowly drawing his hands away from Morty's butt and sliding them up through the sheen of sweat along his slender back and stroking up along those wings again. He couldn't seem to keep his fingers off of those soft, delicate appendages. "That's it...good boy..." he praised when Morty continued the slow pace Rick had set. "Such a good boy..." He pressed firm kisses along Morty's upper arms where they were wrapped beside his head and lapped over thin shoulders and up a tender throat.

Morty whimpered, feeling so, so good all over every square inch of his diminutive body. The pleasure began pooling rapidly in his groin and spread through his belly, and his pace faltered. "R-Rick...I'm c-close... Please... Please, Rick..."

"Oh, of course, angel. Whatever you want, baby bird. You wanna come? Hm? Does my sweet little Morty wanna come on my cock again?"

Morty whined and arched and shuddered with those words.

"You wanna come untouched just like earlier, baby?"

"Mm! Mm-hmm!" the teen moaned out between gasping breaths.

"Fuck yeah, Morty. I got you. I got you, baby. Don't even trip. Rick's got it all worked out... Just hold onto me, baby. Don't let go...keep those beautiful wings around me, angel." Rick rolled his hips and tucked one arm around Morty's waist to hold him still. Another arm curled up across his back to cup a hand against his head in order to keep him pressed close in a deep kiss. He then jerked and fucked up into him with swift thrusts that firmly dragged against his prostate every single time.

Morty pulled out of the kiss abruptly and cried out in euphoria, arms and wings and thighs clamping hard around every part of his Rick he could. His cock slid through the sweat and pre-cum he'd leaked all over Rick's belly, trapped between their bodies and being massaged with the older man's rapidly pounding movements.

So thoroughly stimulated from every angle, Morty came shouting, tears of overwhelming ecstasy pouring down his cheeks. His warm fluids spread thickly between their bodies.

"Fuck fuck fuck, shit!" Rick growled, and his hips stuttered as he cut loose and emptied inside his new little lover. "Huuhh! Huhooooh!" he gasped and moaned loudly, curling forward and lurching with each throb of his powerful orgasm. "Hoohh Morty...Morty...!" Rick grit his teeth and shuddered, trying desperately not to grip his delicate angel too hard with his spasming appendages. Gasps and groans tripped over his lips and tongue, feeling the bright spike of pleasure ease off into more tolerable levels of lingering throbbing in his groin.

Morty moaned and shuddered with each pulse through the cock inside him and slumped as heavily as he could be against Rick's chest. He panted and licked his lips, tasting light salt from the sweat on the scientist's shoulder. Lifting his heavy head, he tilted it and nuzzled against the side of Rick's face. When he caught his breath enough, he whispered to the old man's ear, " _Rick... I love you, Rick..._ "

Rick's own breath caught in his throat, and his cock gave an enthusiastic but waning throb. He groaned and cradled the boy in his lap a little tighter. "Shit, Morty... Fuck, you can't pull shit on an old man like that... Ugh, you're gonna put me six feet under with that kinda talk after what we just did..."

Morty giggled, his afterglow so warm and tender in Rick's arms. "It's true, though..."

Rick just hummed and finally leaned away, cupping the teen's small, soft cheek and tilting in to kiss him deeply. They pulled apart a moment later, their lips dragging against one another, the soft sound echoing in the huge bathroom. "Yeah? Here's another truth, then..." He leaned in and whispered to Morty's little ear, " _I love you, too._ "

He said it so freely and sincerely that Morty could barely believe such a phrase came out of a Rick's mouth.

"Come on, Morty, lets get cleaned up...again. Heh-heh."

Scooting forward, Rick carried the boy with him on his lap, and they sank back into the warm water, both shivering at the temperature change, then shivering again when Rick dislodged his softening manhood from Morty's body.

In the time that followed, Rick languidly washed his small lover, changing their positions as needed, but cradling him against his chest as much as possible.

"Mm...until we get tired of fuckin' around with each other, I think we'll just stay home and continue to forego any adventures. At least until I really need something, anyway."

Morty giggled. "That sounds great, Rick. I wanna spend as much time with you as possible. I love you so much."

Rick cleared his throat and Morty could feel his flaccid member give an interested twitch against his thigh. "Shit, Morty, I'm an old man. Cut me some slack here. You're gonna kill me with that."

Morty laughed more and turned in Rick's arms, draping his arms and wings over his older lover's shoulders. "Don't worry, Rick. I'm your guardian angel, remember? There's no way I'll let you die now."

Rick grinned at him and wrapped his arms around Morty's slender back and cupped up under the base of his wings. "Fuck yeah, baby bird. I like the way you think. Tell you what...you keep me kickin', and I'll reward you with more pleasure than you can handle."

Morty giggled again and bit his bottom lip, eyeing up his lover hungrily. "Deal."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally going to be where the story ended. I had another idea for this Rick and Morty pair that I was intending to write as a different story in this series, but I decided to work it into this story instead because it fit so well with it. So, basically, it means more chapters are on the way! LOL
> 
> Hope you are enjoying everything so far, and I hope you'll come back for more! And if you do like my work, I would like to invite you to check out my other works posted here on AO3. Thanks for reading!


	15. Crumbling Foundations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter is really, really long this time, and I hope that that's not a turnoff to anyone. Please enjoy! ❤️

One week went by, which included a **lot** of intimate moments between Rick and Morty.

They made out in every room of the house, even outside on the back lawn a couple times when Morty's flight exercises ended and he flitted down into Rick's waiting arms. They made love in both of their beds, on the couch again, then the chair. And when things got more rowdy, they'd fuck on a kitchen counter or even the table.

The lab was fun, though, when Morty would be idly helping Rick with an invention, passing him different styles of screwdrivers. Then Rick would turn to him, give him that "appraising" eye that trailed up and down his small body, making him feel as naked as he knew the scientist was about to make him. And then Rick would snatch him up, plop him onto the workbench, actually strip him naked, and take him deep and fast.

That special lubricant that Rick had created however long ago was always on hand too, and he never failed to use it so that his large size wouldn't be a problem for Morty's small rear end. The kid **could** have taken the scientist's massive cock without the special properties in that lube, since he was used to sex and those muscles were meant to be able to stretch naturally anyway, but Rick was insistent that they use it every time. He didn't want to hurt Morty by jumping in too soon without properly preparing him with normal lube, nor was he too enthusiastic about the prospects of those muscles becoming as stretched and loose as his own ass had become over time.

But Morty didn't mind the thoughtful consideration, saw it as endearing, even, when Rick would halt them and insist he use the special iridescent lubricant before they went any further intimately. It was just another thing for him to love his new Rick for.

That week of heavy play-time out of the way, though, it was apparent that Rick needed to hunker down and actually get back to business as usual. There was still the matter of that buyer for those rare geode crystals from their last mission, and he had been putting that sale off for too long.

It wasn't that he **needed** the money, but he didn't want to be known as a douche that reneged on deals.

So he harvested the correct crystals from the geodes, nice ones too, and packaged them up carefully in a silvery suitcase padded with foam for delivery. All that was left was to make the actual delivery...but the meeting place was somewhere he'd rather not go. Especially with his little winged Morty. But, deals were deals, so he called Morty into the lab and told him they were about to leave for some business.

The boy had a soft look of relief on his face before he stowed it, and Rick figured he was happy to be getting back to a normal routine too. Fucking around was great fun, but there was more to life than just that. The kid was probably getting a little bored, just hanging around all day, tinkering with Rick...or "tinkering" with Rick.

Carrying the suitcase in one hand because he knew the thing would weigh about a hundred pounds to his little Morty if he tried to pick it up with his stringy muscles and hollow bones, Rick shot a portal against the lab wall, and they both walked through.

On the other side was a familiar but unwelcome sight to Rick. Tall sleek buildings, curves that ended in angles, lots of teal highlights, layers and layers of walkways, and signs that all contained the name "Rick" and/or "Morty" at least once.

The monument to a Rick's ego.

The Citadel of Ricks.

Morty looked around in awe, not used to seeing the Citadel outside of the Morty Daycare. He'd been there one other time, right after he'd been brought there after his entire family had been killed, but he hadn't been traveling about the streets of the Citadel long, and his frame of mind at the time was also not the best. So the sights were rather new and amazing.

So many Rick and Morty pairs walked the street, many the default variant, but a couple oddities were also sprinkled in here and there. There was a green alien Rick and Morty pair, each with three eyes, antennae, and an extra set of arms; and a Lizard Rick too, with his own scaly Morty at his side. It made Morty feel a little better about his own self, that he was different, but so were a lot of other Mortys too. His Rick may not match him with wings, but they were a pair and that was what mattered.

Happily grinning, he took a step behind Rick and hopped up onto his back, hands gripping his shoulders and elongated toes clinging at his hips. "Is your buyer a Rick, Rick?" he asked, leaning his head close and peering over the scientist's shoulder, able to scan a lot more of the area from the higher vantage point.

Rick sighed and began his trek down the sidewalk. "Yeah, Morty. Guy told me he doesn't normally stay on the Citadel, but apparently he's had to stay longer than he planned or something, and he needs supplies from outside sources because he can't go get them himself." He snorted derisively. "If you ask me, the dude is trapped on the Citadel just like a lot of these other dunces. Probably had his portal gun confiscated for whatever reason. The crystals he asked me to get could easily be used in the creation of portal gun technology. He's probably trying to escape or something. Can't blame him, though," he mumbled, eyes scanning over the gaudy decor and golden statues in his own likeness. "This place is a stifling barn for corralled sheep Ricks. The less time we're here, the better. So I wanna make the sale, then go home, Morty. We can go on a regular adventure later."

Morty hummed in acknowledgment, watching the scenery pass by while Rick stalked down the street. It was true, he did not miss the Citadel, nor the daycare he had been cooped up in for over a year. But the thought of the daycare reminded him of something.

"Storage Rick is here, though, Rick. He—He was really nice to me. T-Took care of me when I was in the Morty Daycare."

Rick only grunted in response.

Nibbling along his lower lip, Morty leaned close and squeezed a little at the scientist's shoulders. "Um...do...do you th-think maybe... C-Can we go see him, Rick? Like, a visit for a few minutes? And—And maybe even Agent Rick too? Th-They were both really nice to me. I wouldn't mind seeing them again. Just for a short visit?" he pleaded softly, nosing at Rick's ear sweetly before placing a little kiss behind it.

The old man cleared his throat quietly, trying not to attract attention to himself. "O-Okay, Morty, okay. We'll—We'll go see them after I make the exchange. Just cool it with the PDA, kid. It's more of an open secret that some Ricks and Mortys fuck, but it isn't like a widely accepted thing rated for public consumption. While we're here, we should stay on the down-low, okay, buddy?"

Morty giggled and leaned a safer distance away. "Okay, Rick. L-Like a secret love affair, right?"

"Shh!" the old man shushed, but he couldn't hide his own mirth on the matter.

They ended up snickering together, heads tucked a little closer than they should have been in public, but unable to help indulging in that closeness with their shared amusement.

"Ow!" Morty yelped suddenly, stiffening and clenching harder into Rick with his hands and feet.

Rick stopped dead and looked over his shoulder, his heart picking up in pace and muscles tensing in a fight or flight reaction. "Morty? What's wrong?"

The boy looked over his own shoulder, frowning, and tucked his wings tightly against his back. Behind him stood a Rick with an open look of astonishment on his face, slowly twirling one of Morty's brown feathers between his thumb and forefinger, staring at it as he did so.

Rick spun them both around, putting himself between the other Rick and his little Morty. Seeing the boy's feather held in a stranger's grip set him on fire with anger. The only way the guy could have gotten it was to have plucked it from the boy's wing. Some piece of shit Citadel Rick plucked his Morty!

"The fuck do you think your doing, asshole?!" he growled loudly, pointing a rigid finger at the alternate version of himself.

The other Rick smirked, lifting a wide-eyed, interested expression up to him. He stared solely at Morty over Rick's shoulder, eyes alight with intrigue, but pupils expanded with the hint of a more sinister intent. "A Morty with wings?" he wondered aloud, dropping his eyes to the feather in his hand, then back up to the boy. "I've never seen a Morty with wings before. Almost couldn't believe my eyes. But they're real." He tilted to the side as though to look around Rick and get a better view of the boy clinging to his back, but Rick twisted and lifted the arm holding the briefcase up to further block the other Rick's view.

"The fuck you doing, laying your hands on another Rick's Morty, asshole?" Rick snarled at him.

The other guy shrugged and took interest in the feather he held again. "Purely for scientific purposes, I assure you." His eyes trailed back up to Morty, hiding over Rick's shoulder. "Just had to make sure my eyes weren't playing tricks on me. But you've really got a winged Morty there, don't you? And shit, he's small too. You graft those on and shrink him a little with your shrink ray? What's the point of that, though? You trying to make him like a little parakeet or something? So you can have a little Morty bird ride around on your shoulder? Heh," the other Rick chuckled, eyes narrowing at Morty, still staring at him, "Do you call him 'Polly' and give him crackers too?"

Rick seethed, teeth gritting and clenching his fists so hard, the veins stood out on the backs of them. "You ask a lot of retarded questions, pal," he growled, narrowing his icy grey eyes at his double. "None of which are any of your fuckin' business. Now hand over that feather and get the fuck outta here. I got places to be."

The other Rick eyed up the feather between his fingers again, eyebrow lifting in what was obviously mock interest. "Oh, this? Actually, I was thinking of keeping it."

"The fuck you will, asshole!" Rick shouted, taking a threatening step forward and jabbing a finger at the other Rick again. "You think I'm gonna let you just walk away after plucking my Morty and keep the feather you stole? As if!"

"Ah, but I could get a lot of genetic information out of this little fella," the other Rick intoned, holding the feather up in illustration. "I bet I could even use it to alter another Morty in the same way. Have my own little bird Morty to play with. Surely, you wouldn't mind that, right? I mean, unless you have some kind of patent on changing Mortys into bird boys."

His smug smirk was making Rick sick, and he finally had enough of the mocking attitude. In a split second, he reached into his lab coat and pulled his laser pistol, aiming it straight at the other Rick's forehead. The guy froze, his smug expression melting just the slightest bit, eyes now locked on the gun.

"I said...give...the feather...back..." Rick growled, punctuating each word with biting clarity.

The other Rick stared at him, eyes flickering between the gun and Rick himself, then the smug little smirk slid back onto his face, and he shrugged nonchalantly. His fingers released the feather, and it floated down to the ground slowly, swaying back and forth until it slid to a landing near his feet.

"Well, if you're going to be so rude about it, then fine, there you go, Rick. You can have it back," he said, his tone dripping with conceit.

Rick just clenched his teeth harder, hardly able to believe it was so easy to hate other versions of himself.

"Well?" the other Rick wondered, eyebrow quirking mockingly. "I gave it back, pal. Why don't you pick it up?" he suggested, eyes narrowing as though he had the upper hand, even as he stood stock still with a gun pointed to his head. "Or better yet, have your little Morty bird come fetch it for you. I'm sure he's a great little carrier pigeon."

Rick just snorted, not falling for that old trick, and directed his aim down to the feather on the ground. He shot, and the plume vaporized, leaving a small smoldering scorch mark on the sidewalk.

The other Rick lifted his gaze, having watched, his eyes narrowing and the smug smile dropping off his face like it had only been temporarily pinned there.

"Walk away," Rick ordered, a firm, hard edge to his tone.

"You first," the other Rick offered, right hand twitching at his side.

Little panted breaths warmed the back of Rick's neck and soft whimpers reached his ears. He could feel his little Morty, gripping him like a vice, shudders quivering his frame.

" _R-Rick..._ " he whispered, trying not to be too much of a distraction, but unable to keep quiet. " _I-I-I'm scared, R-Rick..._ "

The scientist ground his teeth together, hating that he shared a face with that piece of shit across from them. "Don't worry, Morty," he reassured, voice still remaining loud and firm. "Everything will be fine as long as that prick just turns around...and walks away..." He glared pointedly at the other Rick, tensing his poised arm wielding the gun.

"Is that right?" the other Rick questioned, narrow eyes locked on him. "And how do I know you aren't gonna shoot me in the back if I turn around, asswipe?"

"You have my word."

The other Rick barked a laugh. "We're both Ricks! You know as well as I do that a Rick's word is worth jack shit, pal."

"Oh? So should I just kill you where you stand instead?"

Morty tensed behind him and whimpered. " _Please, Rick...please don't fight him... J-Just let him go, Rick, please..._ " he whispered shakily.

"I **am** letting him go, Morty. The dumbass is just too stupid to take the fucking ticket to Splitsville," Rick grumbled.

"Because I won't let a Rick's fake compassion land me with a laser shot to my back, bitch!"

"Then why did you mess with my fucking Morty in the first place, dipshit?!"

"I couldn't resist! I've never seen a Morty with wings before, fucknut! How can I call myself a Rick without checking that shit out?!"

"Bull-fucking-shit, doofus Rick! You want him, don't you?! Just to run experiments on!"

"Whoa hey! I'm no doofus Rick, Rick-dick! You take that back!"

"Please, stop fighting!" Morty shouted loudly, his voice carrying over them both and down the street, gaining the attention of a few passersby who stopped to watch the altercation with amusement. Frustration won out over fear, listening to the bickering old men, and he leaned up over Rick's shoulder. He glared hard at the other Rick who stood stock silent with a rather surprised look on his face. "Just stop it, both of you! You!" he yelled, pointing a small finger toward the other Rick, "just get the fuck outta here! My Rick won't kill you, now get lost!" He then turned his attention to his own Rick, glaring down at the man who was looking up at him over his shoulder, also with surprise. "And you! Put that gun down and let's go! We have a delivery to make, Rick!"

A frown creased the old scientist's brow and he nodded, but when he looked back at that other Rick, he only lowered his gun a fraction. "Him first."

The guy rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on."

"Just go!" Morty growled at him as fiercely as his little Morty voice could.

"Fine, fine," the Rick acquiesced, taking a few steps backward and at last turning around, leaving the scene. His pace was rather quick, and he darted behind a pole light before continuing on his way, making himself a harder target to shoot at while also checking over his shoulder every few steps to see if he was still in the clear.

The few onlookers grumbled about how boring that altercation had been, that there wasn't even a firefight, and they dispersed, going about the rest of their day.

Rick breathed a tense sigh of relief, but didn't move, even after tucking his gun away inside his lab coat. He stood still and waited until that other Rick disappeared from sight, slightly amused when the guy found a side street a few hundred feet away and darted onto it. But even then, he didn't move, staring at where the guy had last been seen, just waiting for him to pop back up and try to retaliate.

"Rick?" Morty asked over his shoulder, leaning a little closer in worry. "Are...are you mad?"

The old scientist took a steadying breath and blinked, finally turning away and walking down the street again. "No, Morty, don't worry about it. If it hadn't been for you, that could'a turned real ugly back there. My guardian angel is still lookin' out for me." He turned a wink over his shoulder, smirking.

The boy giggled and hugged around his neck from behind, so relieved nothing really bad had happened. The last thing he wanted was for his new Rick to be hurt, especially in an unnecessary fight with a random Rick on the street. It brought up horrible memories...memories of accusations flung at his original Rick...of an altercation between his Rick and...and...and then in the end, his Rick was dead...everyone was dead. So now, Morty wanted to keep his new Rick from having confrontations or altercations with **anyone** , especially other Ricks because of their wily and unpredictable nature. The last thing he wanted was a repeat of what happened with his original. He would avoid that at all costs.

"You okay, though, Morty?" Rick had to ask, lifting a hand up to ruffle his fingers through the kid's downy hair.

Morty shook himself out of his thoughts and smiled at the old man from over his shoulder. "I'm fine, Rick. It's—It's not the first time I've been plucked before. I've had it way worse than that already. Don't worry."

Rick only grunted in answer. The implication that his delicate little Morty had had his feathers plucked out before (other than the one that he asked to analyze a while back), was disconcerting. Had it been just a couple? A handful? Oh, God, **all** of them? He couldn't imagine how painful something like that could be for someone as frail as that boy.

No matter. Things were fine again. All they had to do was make that damn sale and get the fuck off the Citadel.

Rick scowled, remembering something.

Well, they'd leave after he let Morty visit Storage and Agent Rick, first. Shit, that was one promise he did regret.

For the sale of the rare crystals, Rick and Morty ended up in a bar, sitting in a booth in the back left corner of the dim, seedy establishment. Layers of cigarette smoke floated along the ceiling like stratus clouds, the smell permeating the air, thick and strong, along with the smells of booze and cedar wood. Much of the place was adorned with cedar embellishments, along the walls and ceiling, the tables and benches and chairs, even the bar along the right half of the place.

Generally, it was Rick's type of place...given that the name of the bar was simply "Rick's Bar", but after that incident on the street, he just couldn't get comfortable in the otherwise heavy but cozy atmosphere that he was usually rather fond of. He just wished that the bar was located somewhere else, instead of the Citadel. Then he'd have no complaints at all.

He even liked that the servers were Mortys, even the bartender. Apparently, the place was owned by a Rick, but he stayed in the back and ran the business end while the Morty employees took care of the customers. Not a bad setup, really. Especially since he knew there was more to having only Morty servers and no employee Ricks in sight. That lended to patron Ricks being more at ease, and they also tended to stay longer and spend more money. After all, Ricks got along pretty well and were comfortable around Mortys...no matter how good or bad they treated the kids...but Ricks didn't really care for the company of other Ricks.

It was all rather psychological.

But even though every Rick knew the game, they played it anyway. It was just easier that way.

Morty shifted at his side, and Rick looked down at him, making eye contact and asking silently if he was all right. The boy was tucked near him on the side next to the wall, the scientist's body shielding him from prying eyes. Rick was being extra cautious, still paranoid after that altercation on the street.

Morty smiled up at him and nodded wordlessly, leaning his shoulder against the old man's side and snuggling in. The cute sight had Rick's heart melting, and he very nearly missed the sound of footsteps on the hardwood floor approaching their table.

Catching sight of a default Rick headed straight for them, Rick tensed and quickly dipped his hand inside his lab coat to pull out his laser pistol. The motion was kept tactful, trying to make it look like he was scratching himself.

"S-three twenty-two?" the Rick asked, stopping next to the booth and peering down at him with a quirked eyebrow.

Rick glared at him and cocked his laser pistol discreetly near his chest, pointing it at the newcomer.

The guy tilted his head curiously, eyes dipping to the gun and back up. "Is that a yes or a no?"

"Who are you to ask?"

The Rick smirked and winked at him. "Delta-seventeen."

Rick looked him up and down, then tilted the gun away and tucked it back into his lab coat. "You can't be too careful around here," he mumbled, explaining away his paranoia.

Rick Delta-017 snorted and took a seat across from him in the booth, lifting one hand and catching the attention of a server Morty. "Don't I know it, pal. And by the way, just call me Delta," he said, eager to skip past formalities.

The server Morty took his order and left, then returned a minute later with a chilled glass of scotch, no ice, because that diluted the alcohol and took up too much space in the glass that could be better occupied with more alcohol.

Taking an indulgent sip, the Rick calling himself "Delta" dipped his eyes to the right, finally noticing the small boy sitting next to Rick, tucked partially behind his arm, wearing a yellow shirt. Delta's eyes widened over the rim of his glass, and he lowered it slowly to clunk against the cedar wood table. "Hooooleee shit, Three twenty-two! Is that a **Morty**? You **actually** got one?" he wondered in amazement.

Rick moved his arm around Morty, draping it across his shoulders, scowling and holding him against his side protectively. Morty, out of reflex, lifted one wing just a little from behind his back to cup the apex of it around Rick's hand on his shoulder intimately.

Delta stared at that in astonishment, his mouth falling open into a very unflattering gape. The color seemed to drain from his face. " _No way... I-It's_ ** _you_** _..._ " he mumbled as if to himself, but the pair heard it all the same.

Morty felt confused, and Rick narrowed his eyes, suspicious.

"W-five, right?" the guy asked earnestly, pointing a finger at Morty.

The boy looked up at his Rick for guidance, but when he only saw the old man glaring hard across the table, he turned back and answered on his own, nodding subtly.

Delta closed his mouth and cleared his throat before taking another sip to steady his suddenly frazzled nerves. Quickly taking back control, he sent the boy a wink and a smile, pointing that same finger at him, only now the rest of the digits on that hand were holding the glass of scotch. "Yeah, yeah. I knew your Rick, kid."

Morty suddenly perked up, and Rick scowled even harder at the other guy across the table. Their little "deal" was turning into something else entirely. It seemed the suitcase of crystals sitting between Morty and the wall was going totally ignored. And Rick didn't like that. Especially when that other Rick was looking at his Morty with the same sort of enthusiastic attention he should have been paying to the crystals in that case. It felt like that encounter out on the street all over again. That unease had him gritting his teeth behind closed lips, eyes cold and locked onto his duplicate, just waiting for any sudden movements.

More than ever, Rick regretted bringing Morty along on that particular outing. He realized, much too late, that it wasn't necessary to haul the boy along with him everywhere he went. There were times when he could—and **should** —be left at home.

"Yeah, your Rick didn't get out much, but I helped him out a couple times when the Feds were gettin' too close to his heels. That was before you came along, kid," Delta went on, totally oblivious to the glare being directed at him. "We also went on a couple major scores together. Guy was a real spunky live-wire. Hah!" He shook his head at what seemed to be a fond memory and partook of another gulp of alcohol.

Morty stared at him with glossy eyes, hearing those things for the first time. He knew his original Rick had a long life before returning to the Smith family, but the old man never really explained much of his past to Morty. Just that he and government didn't get along and to always question authority. Now learning that his original had another Rick as his friend and they used to hang out together, going on adventures before they were considered "adventures", Morty's little heart beat rapidly in his chest with excitement.

Delta sighed and swirled his drink slowly, propping his elbows to the table and hanging his head slightly. "Yeah...sorry about what happened to him. Your fuckin' Jerry was a real piece of shit, kid." His voice was low and the hint of sadness was there but was easily missed.

Morty cast his eyes down and sniffed, curling against Rick's side. The conversation was dredging up too many memories, and he sought out comfort in his Rick's warmth and presence.

Tucking him in closer, Rick rubbed at his shoulder consolingly. Still, he didn't like that the subject of the kid's old Rick had come up. Things were better now, now that Morty had moved past his original enough that they could be together. He didn't want that compromised, but at the same time, that niggling kindness that he exuded couldn't deny Morty the opportunity to talk to that other Rick who apparently knew his original. He was too fucking soft.

Rick Delta-017 looked at Rick and smirked. "You got yourself a real cute one there, Three twenty-two. W-dimension Ricks and Mortys are super fuckin' rare. How'd you manage to get ahold of him?" he asked, inflecting genuine interest into the question.

"Not that it's any of your fuckin' business, but the Morty-dopton Agency paired me with him," Rick supplied curtly. And that was **all** he would supply.

Delta narrowed his eyes, knowing how that program worked. He drained the last of his scotch and signaled a server for another one. "Shit, man, you lu- _hhugg_ -cked out."

A smirk curled Rick's lips, and he nodded to his opposite. "Yeah...I think so too." He directed a genuine smile down at Morty, and the boy smiled back up at him, even though his eyes were still watery. Rick caressed a thumb under one eye gently, drying the wet skin there.

Delta watched with undue interest, his eyes narrowing again.

The server Morty returned, bringing another chilled glass of scotch and removed the empty one, scurrying away as if he knew the tension in the air was too thick in that corner of the establishment.

"So...are you two uh..." The Delta Rick left the remainder of that question unasked, quirking his unibrow as he took a sip of his newly-delivered scotch, eyes darting between Rick and Morty sitting opposite him in the booth.

Rick scowled again, deeply irritated by the guy's nosiness into his personal life. "That's **definitely** none of your fuckin' business, Delta."

Delta shrugged nonchalantly. "You were in a relationship with your original, though, right, Morty?" he asked, turning instead to the small winged boy.

Morty shied into himself, but nodded subtly.

With a knowing smirk, Delta went on to say, "You miss him, Morty? Your original? You miss being with him?"

Morty's eyes glossed over again, and he bit his lip, shying up completely with an awkward shrug.

"Heh-heh...don't lie now, just cause **he's** sitting there." Delta nodded at Rick, giving the boy a wink as he did so.

Rick grumbled low in his throat. "What is this, huh? The fuck is wrong with you?" he hissed low, trying to keep his voice down so as not to draw attention to themselves. He tugged Morty against his side again, glaring at the Delta-Rick threateningly.

"Nothing, nothing." The guy waved a hand back and forth as though weary. "I just wanted to know if Morty had an interest in...oh, shall we say...seeing him again?" He sipped at his glass to hide his smirk while both Rick and Morty gaped at him.

"E...Excuse me?" Rick growled, recovering first. "What the fuck are you talking about? Guy's dead. Sorry, Morty," he added quickly, looking down at the boy and rubbing at his shoulder a bit, consolingly. "Quit talking shit and getting him upset," he went on, looking back up at his opposite.

"I'm not talking shit at all." Delta set his glass down and reached into his lab coat, fishing around. "Here, Morty. Look what I have..." His hand reemerged, pulling out a large grey feather, about ten inches long. It was smooth and wide with a fat rounded tip, the bottom of it fluffing out with powdery light grey down, ending in a white quill about two inches long.

Morty's eyes bugged out of his head, his mouth falling open. His small hands gripped the edge of the table as he leaned forward, shock and disbelief painted all over his features.

Delta chuckled at that reaction, like he knew what the kid was going to do before he even did it. "I thought this might get your attention. You recognize this, huh?"

Morty worked his jaw a little and spoke for the first time since that other Rick showed up. "Wh...Where...where did you g-get it?"

Chuckling a little again, Delta leaned back and spun the feather by the quill between his fingers. "Like I said...your Rick was pretty spunky... I'd say, he and I were as close as you can get to two Ricks being 'friends'. He was...cute..." Delta sighed and looked across at Morty. "About as cute as an alcoholic old man smaller than your average Rick with a set of wings can get, anyway." He shrugged. "Little guy liked to get rowdy after a good firefight, and I can't say we never fucked around as a result." He sighed again and rolled his eyes at the glare he was receiving from Rick. "Anyway...he tended to shed a couple feathers here and there around my place, and well...guess I couldn't throw them away. I keep this one on me for good luck." He twirled it again.

The guy's testimony of his original's behavior...it sounded just like him. Morty knew first hand how excessively horny his original would get after a high-octane adventure. It was like the winged Rick became high on potent aphrodisiacs, and nothing could sate him short of a vigorous fucking session, usually ending with the old man becoming gushy and clingy. It made the boy feel strange...that another person also knew his original's intimate behaviors...and even though a strange sort of jealousy stung at his heart, he knew he shouldn't have been surprised by that.

Morty stared at the feather, tears streaming down his cheeks. The way Delta was spinning it slowly, it made the object seem enticing and irresistible while at the same time evoking deep feelings of loss and sadness because of what the item actually was. "C...Can I...?" he dared to ask.

Delta smirked at him and extended the feather over the table. "Sure, kid."

Gingerly, Morty took the plume and cupped it in his hands, staring at it, eyes so full of tears his vision of it warbled and fogged until it was just a blurry grey blob. Holding it by the quill, he lifted it to his face and closed his eyes, feeling the silkiness of it against his forehead and the downy afterfeather at the base. The boy tried to keep it away from his cheeks so as not to get it wet with his tears. The feather hadn't retained his original's scent after so long, but the look of it and the feeling of the thing against his skin was so familiar, it was like ripping a ragged hole open in his heart again. Morty doubled over, holding the feather against his forehead and nose and bawled openly, face nearly pressing into the table.

Rick turned from that sight, a furious scowl directed at Delta, and hissed, "Way to go, asshole. He was just starting to get over his original."

Delta shrugged and narrowed his eyes a bit at Rick. "Was he really? With that kind of reaction?" he asked, motioning toward the boy with the drink in his hand.

Rick turned his attention back to Morty again, finding that the kid's wings had come forward and wrapped around his head, cocooning himself as he cried brokenly beside him. Rick swallowed, eyes widening a little at the sight. He'd never seen the boy quite so broken up before.

"Listen, Morty," Delta addressed him again, his voice tapered and gentle, "I gotta ask... You happy with your new Rick? With Three twenty-two?"

No answer came from Morty, but he drew his wings down and looked up at Delta, pulling the feather away from his face and cradling it into one palm, holding the quill with the other.

"Hey!" Rick growled, fisting a hand on the table and leaning a little further over it.

Delta ignored him, his gaze focused on Morty. "Let me ask you, Morty...if you had a choice...would you stay with your new Rick?... Or would you go back to your original, if you could have him again?"

Morty's eyes widened, allowing more tears to cascade down.

Rick snarled, baring teeth slightly yellowed with excessive drinking and age, and reached across the table to fist a hand into Delta's lab coat, tugging him forward a little. "The fuck are you—!"

"Because I have a way, Morty—a way to bring your Rick back," Delta went on, completely ignoring himself being pulled, even though the edge of the table was jabbing into his ribs a little uncomfortably.

Morty's eyes bugged out, and he gasped lightly, his entire body freezing.

Grey eyes darted to Morty, watching that reaction play out while the sight had shards of ice forming in his veins, and Rick swallowed nervously. He whipped his attention back to Delta when the guy started talking again.

"With his feathers, I have more than enough DNA to clone him and bring him back, Morty."

A visible shake shimmied down through Morty's body, and he continued to tremble slightly in his seat, small noises of disbelief erupting from his throat.

"Why the hell would you—?!" Rick snarled, giving Delta a shake with the grip he still had on his coat.

Delta ignored him further, staring straight at Morty and continuing his offer without skipping a beat. "Granted, he might not be all there upstairs like he used to be, since I don't have a copy of his consciousness to load into him..."

Morty swallowed visibly, his small adam's apple bobbing deeply.

"...But...you would have him again."

The boy shook a little harder.

"He'd be able to hold you...touch you...wrap his big grey wings around you..."

Morty whimpered and tore his eyes away, staring at the feather cradled in his hands as if it suddenly were able to breathe and come to life on its own.

Growling loudly, Rick stood, dragging the Delta-Rick up out of his seat, and slammed him up against the wall beside the booth. "Piece of fucking shit!" he spat at him, fury making his vision tunnel onto his doppelgänger's smugly smirking face. "Isn't there some sort of unspoken Rick code that you don't mess around with another Rick's Morty, huh, asshole?! Who are you to promise my Morty something like that?!"

Delta shrugged, his shoulders rubbing against the wall, partially pinned. "Just an old friend of his Rick is all. Can't say I wouldn't like to see him again too, ya know?" His smugness dripped off of his words, his voice, his very being like rancid oil. "Besides...he's not really **your** Morty...he's just... **adopted**..."

Rick's blood was boiling, his teeth grit so hard, they creaked in his skull. "What the fuck is wrong with you?! I worked hard to be able to get him, and I finally have it good, you piece of shit! Why the fuck are you so determined to ruin this for me?" He hissed between his teeth, red bleeding into the edges of his vision.

Delta shrugged his shoulders again but was pressed harder against the wall for his effort, forcing him to abort the motion. "Oh, I dunno...maybe it might have something to do with my bleeding heart for a poor, heartbroken Morty..." He smirked so hard, his eyes narrowed to slits as he stared down his nose at Rick. "Or maybe it has more to do with reality... You know...the reality that S-Ricks shouldn't have a Morty..."

Rick seethed, a beast of rage exploding inside his gut and clawing its way up through his core, snarling and scraping to be free. The flames of such all-encompassing anger engulfed his entire body, and he pulled his fist back, his entire arm shaking, knuckles white, chest heaving, breaths hissing through clenched teeth.

Rick Delta-017 only stared at him with an air of superiority, unflinching.

"R-Rick?"

Rick froze, glaring with unparalleled hatred at Delta. His head tilted a bit, just enough to turn his eyes toward his little Morty, sitting at the edge of the booth seat, cradling the feather from his dead Rick against his chest lovingly. Morty stared up at him imploringly, eyes big and wet, thin brows tilted up and bunched in the center with concern, cheeks still shiny with tears and flushed from his earlier sobbing.

"Rick..."

That beast died in Rick's chest and its heavy weight plummeted into his stomach, curdling and rotting and leaving him feeling heavy and ill. He stared at Morty, slowly lowering his arm, ice forming in his veins as the fight drained out through his sweating, tingly feet.

Morty took a breath, seeing Rick backing down, then turned to Delta who was looking at him with a smug but open smile. "You...you can really...bring him back?"

And Rick felt like throwing up.

"Sure I can, Morty. Cloning is like child's play for a Rick. It'll be one hundred percent him. Right down to how many feathers on each wing and every little line on his old face."

Morty lightly stroked the feather in his fingers, petting it against his chest. "But...he...he won't...remember me...?"

Delta shrugged, lifting one hand with the motion. "Eh no, he'll be kind of a blank slate without his consciousness...but it won't be hard to rekindle your relationship with him, kid. You can teach him stuff and whatnot. He'd be easily moldable and believe whatever you told him, and do whatever you asked him to. But just think..." He turned a smug grin to Rick who was looking paler as he stared at Morty, his fist in Delta's lab coat loose and barely pressed into him anymore. "You'll finally have him back. You can go flying with him again. He can wrap you up in his big grey wings. You can share your first kiss all over again."

Morty's face drew tight in a grimace of emotional pain, cupping the feather to his heart and leaning around it a little more. "Can I...c-can I th-think about it...?"

And then Rick's hand finally slipped away from Delta's coat and dangled at his side. His mouth and ears felt like they were stuffed with cotton, his vision blanking, staring straight through Morty like he wasn't even there. His stomach rotted all the way through and bottomed out, his heart snapping free and tumbling down through it into the void of utter emptiness.

He felt sick.

He wanted to puke.

He wanted to drink...heavily.

He was done. Done with that day, done with everything. Done with his fucking life. Just when things had started to be so, so good for him, the rug was pulled out from under him by that fucking Delta-Rick with a bias who just **happened** to know the winged Rick from W-005. His luck could not get any worse...except for the fact that Morty was going to contemplate having his original cloned and brought back...which was code for "I want it, but I'm afraid to say yes right away".

It had only been a week...he had only had Morty the way he truly wanted him for a fucking week!

"Sure, Morty, think it over," Delta piped happily, straightening his lapels and dusting off his lab coat haughtily. "Here." He reached into his coat and fished around for a bit until he pulled out a small device the size and shape of a fifty-cent piece. It was white with a simple silver button on the one side. He tossed it to Morty who fumbled catching it, bouncing between his free hand and against his chest then clattering to the floor. Delta rolled his eyes as Morty bent to retrieve it sheepishly. "Just push that button when you've made your decision, and I'll do the rest. I'll show up with your original Rick and you and he can be together again. Simple as that."

Morty stared at the small device in his palm and stroked a thumb over the feather still cradled against his chest. "And...if I—if—if I **don't** press it?"

Delta shrugged once again as if brushing off the absurdity of that question. "Then I guess I **won't** show up. I won't clone your Rick, and you'll never see him again." He smiled down at Morty, putting one hand to his skinny hip, brushing his lab coat back with the motion. "But we all know you'll make the **rational** choice here, Morty. But by all means...think it over..." He turned a grin so smug at Rick's ashen face, so fierce, it looked like he was snarling at his double. "All it means is this pathetic S-Rick will be left stewing in his own miserable uncertainty until you make up your mind. No rush, Morty. Do take your time."

Reaching out, Delta snatched Rick by his lab coat and whirled, slamming him against the wall instead. He snarled into his face, "Stupid, pathetic, **weak** old man," repeating the same mantra Rick had ingrained into his own self over the years. "You make me ashamed to be a Rick. Letting yourself be controlled by fucking emotion, letting your little Morty walk all over you and dictate your actions." He shook Rick once, bumping him back against the wall for his undivided attention. "I could read you like a fucking book, bitch. The way you just let me sit there and talk to your Morty like he deserved to hear what I had to say, just because I knew his Rick. If you were a decent, respectable Rick, you shoulda shut me up the second I tried to talk to him. If there's an unspoken code that a Rick doesn't fuck with another Rick's Morty, then you shoulda nipped me in the bud, you fucking moron!" He shook Rick again, just to punctuate that statement.

"It just goes to show that S-Ricks are a fucking blight that should be put down like the sick dogs they are. Forever Mortyless, sad sack, pieces of fucking garbage. It's hard enough to get a decent replacement Morty for a Rick that's lost their own, we don't need filth like **you** sneaking in and taking the best ones out from under our noses when you weren't even meant to have one in the first fucking place!" he spat, his smug demeanor melted away to show true disgust and contempt for the S-Rick in his clutches. He'd held himself in check for the entire duration of their conversation, but that look of utter defeat on Rick's face when Morty simply mentioned that he'd consider having his old Rick brought back had Delta's blood boiling.

How dare that S-Rick, a Rick that was never meant to even have a Morty, take that one, very specific Morty out of the lineup of orphaned Mortys. And how much of a coincidence was it that that very S-Rick was the one who agreed to get him those rare geode crystals? The utter fucking odds—

"It should have been me... **I** should have been given the rights to that Morty. **I** was W-five's closest confidant. **I** was the one he ran to when he was in trouble. And when he died, **I** was the one who should have taken his Morty as my own. W-five had been **mine**..." his voice trembled on the word, "so in his absence, his **Morty** should be mine too! But those fucking Rick-pigs got to him first and carted him off to the Morty pound, and I lost my chance." Delta glared with slitted eyes up and down Rick's face, watching him breathing erratically and glancing between him and the little Morty that stared at them wide-eyed. "Then, what do I see...but a fucking **S-Rick** sitting across from me and hiding what should be **mine** under his arm!"

The utter **fucking** odds!

Morty shook his head, tears brimming his eyes again as he divided his attention between the two Ricks that seemed to be fighting over him. "S-Stop, please..." his small voice croaked, worried over how the meet-up with their buyer was developing. Weren't they just supposed to sell that Delta-Rick those crystals and be on their way? They should be visiting Storage and Agent by that point, right?

Turning slightly, Morty looked out through the dim bar at the other patrons and servers, but they were all actively avoiding the altercation in the corner, talking amongst themselves. Only a few were casting quick glances their way, but none of them looked ready to help.

"Don't mess with another Rick's Morty" was how the saying went...more a rule, than anything. Another guideline was: "Don't get involved in another Rick's business". And, of course: "Ricks can take care of themselves". So it was a general rule to ignore other Ricks' troubles and not get involved.

Morty hated those "rules".

Rick's lack of response only served to infuriate Delta further. "You make me sick, S-Rick. You don't deserve a Morty. Especially not **that** Morty!" He pointed with one hand at the boy sitting at the edge of the booth seat, teary-eyed and worried about what was happening. "Were W-five here right now and had to choose, he'd hand over his Morty to me in a heartbeat. Because **I** was the one always at his side, backing him up, making sure his hollow bones didn't get crushed out there in the multiverse!" Delta hissed and seethed in his self-induced rage, some spittle from his rant landing on Rick's partially slack face.

"Filthy fucking S-Rick—do you even know what to do with a Morty? How to handle them? You have no fucking experience with Mortys! I doubt you even know how to deal with one, and I bet you **certainly** don't know how to discipline one. That much was obvious while you were delicately catering to him earlier!" Leaning in closer, Delta tightened his grip on Rick's lapels. "Well, let me fill you in, **S-Rick**... Mortys are a tool. An object. A pet. And Ricks dictate their lives down to the very way in which they take their every breath. If you aren't prepared to control your Morty the way he's meant to be, then you don't deserve one! And you especially...mother-fucking **especially**...don't deserve **that** one!"

Delta pulled a fist back, ready to deck Rick like he had nearly done to him just a few minutes ago when their roles were reversed.

In that moment, Morty instinctually leapt into action, jumping up and grabbing hold of Delta's forearm, tugging at his sleeve insistently, trying to keep him from swinging his fist. "S-Stop, please! That's enough—l-leave him alone!" he cried, trying to use all of his weight, little as it was, to his advantage.

Delta snarled at Rick, reaching forward with his poised fist and grabbing hold of his lapel again, Morty dangling along the entire way. Getting right into Rick's face, he completely ignored Morty's little tugs that only managed to jerk him to the side slightly. "Call off your stupid attack bird, S-Rick! Do it!" He pushed his fists holding Rick's lab coat up into his throat, choking him off from speaking.

Rick grit his teeth and grabbed hold of Delta's wrists, regaining some sense and pushing back against the hold.

"Show me you can control your fuckin' Morty, S-Rick, and maybe I'll consider not beating you to death and taking him for myself! I can do that you know. It's part of the 'Rick code' that you're so fond of espousing."

Morty dropped the button and feather he'd been trying to hold onto, the feather fluttering to the ground, quill first, in a lazy spiral. He hopped up and dug his small clawed feet into Delta's waist and grappled with his arm, beating his wings rapidly to keep balanced and add thrust into his desperate tugs.

"You're choking him! Let go! Leave him alone!"

Rick Delta-017 snarled and glared at him. "Don't be stupid, Morty! Back off!"

"No, you're hurting him! Let him go!"

"He's not your fucking Rick anyway, Morty. He's just a pathetic S-Rick with no rights to you or any other Morty. Back. The fuck. **Off**!"

Morty scrabbled with Delta's hands where they fisted his Rick's coat and ground into the old man's throat. His Rick was making huffing, choking sounds, his face reddening as he struggled with Delta himself, gripping at his wrists and pushing against his thigh with a knee.

"Rick! Rick, no!" Morty wailed, scratching his short nails against the backs of Delta's hands, desperate to get him to release his choking hold.

"If he's **your** Morty, call him off, S-Rick! You don't want him hurt, do you?" Delta warned one more time.

Rick released a garbled gurgle, trying to speak past his crushed windpipe. "Gggrugguh...Muh...Muhor..."

Delta glared at him, seething. "Pathetic excuse for a fucking Rick...if you won't discipline your pet, I'll show you how, S-Rick!"

With a quick snap, the Delta-Rick whipped his arm out, knocking Morty off of his person. A little yelp was startled from the boy's throat before he crashed against the side of the table with the force of Delta's throw, crying out as pain raced through his left wing and down through his back and side.

Rick's eyes blew wide, his pupils narrowing to pinpricks, honing in on the sight of his little angel being tossed away like a rag doll, ears perked to the sound of his painful cry. With a fire set ablaze in his soul, he focused all his attention on Delta, snarling and kicking out with his knee before the other old man could turn back and get a good grip on him again, gut-checking Delta and knocking the wind from his lungs in a gasping wheeze. Delta lost his grip on Rick and stumbled back, wrapping one arm around his middle and bending over slightly, gasping as drool dripped from his lower lip and slathered to the floor. With a roar, Rick tackled him bodily, throwing them both down to the ground and pinning his double, sitting on his chest with one knee to each arm and one fist in his teal shirt, digging his knuckles into his throat like Delta had done to him. Rearing an arm back, he swung down with a savage fist, at last landing a hit to that smug fucking face, pounding his double's cheek and sending his head twisting to the side.

"You! Don't! Touch! My! Morty!" Rick shrieked a word for each blow, bloodying up Delta's face, splitting his lip and cracking his cheekbone.

Quick as lightning, Rick dove his hand into his own lab coat and withdrew his laser pistol for the third time that day, grinding the barrel into Delta's temple and pushing his head to turn to the side, smashing his undamaged cheek into the cool wood floor. "You think I'm so pathetic I can't fucking kill, you slimy piece of Rick-shit!" Shifting, he plastered his hand against Delta's already bruising jaw and leaned his full weight into it, pinning his head hard to the floor while he drew the laser pistol around and dug it into the back of his head instead. "How about I let the last thing you see be your own fucking brains exploding out your forehead, you Morty-abusing fuckstain?!"

Delta only huffed a strained groan, pain erupting along his jaw from the savage beating and now all the pressure of Rick's weight crushing against it.

"Rick! Please, Rick, stop!" Morty's voice suddenly cut through the high-pitched buzzing in Rick's ears brought on by adrenaline and fury.

He froze, but did not relent on his hold of Delta, only chancing a glance in Morty's direction. "Morty, are you all right?" he asked, quickly assessing the boy's health by the way he stood to his feet and rubbed along his wing, wincing.

"I-I'm okay, Rick... It—It's not broken or anything."

Rick leaned down closer to Delta, growling between clenched teeth as he ground the barrel of the gun hard into his doppelgänger's bald spot. "Then you are fucking **lucky** , Delta-seventeen. Because if **any** part of his body was broken...you'd be seeing your brains flying out your skull right now..."

Delta's only response was a huff of air that puffed his cheeks as it escaped his face. He winced because of it.

"Please, Rick...let him go. I...I-I wanna go home now..."

"Hold on, Morty...I'm not done yet..." Rick growled, digging the gun into Delta's bald spot harder, breaking the skin and making it bleed against the metal that was heated by the man's body already.

The guy hissed and tensed.

"No! No, Rick, please don't kill him! Let's just go! I-I wanna just go!" Morty lighted shaking, small hands to Rick's shoulder and upper arm that was locked, holding Delta down with all his weight. "Don't kill him, please!"

"Why? So he can knock you around again? Try to steal you? Or so you can get your original back?!" Rick spat with venom not meant for Morty, but the boy flinched all the same.

"Please, Rick..." he whined, leaning close and resting his forehead to the back of Rick's head, feeling the smooth skin of his bald spot that was slick with sweat.

Rick panted heavily with the rage burning in his veins and trembling through his limbs.

"Please, Rick... Please...take me home..." Morty pleaded softly, stroking one hand through the back of Rick's hair, coming to rest at the nape of his sweaty neck and caressing a small thumb through the short damp strands there. "Please..."

Rick huffed a shaking breath and lifted, using Delta's face to support his weight until he got to his feet. He stood to full height, gun still aimed at the Delta-Rick's head while the guy groaned and rotated his neck, loud cracking sounds erupting from the vertebrae. Rick backed away a step, giving the other guy room to sit up and rub at his face and jaw, tenderly poking at the swelling flesh that was split and already turning ugly shades of black and purple.

With a grunt, Delta shifted his legs under himself and stood, bracing his hands against the small of his back and bending backward. A chorus of cracks resounded, and he sighed with relief.

"Um...h-here..." Morty mumbled, standing at his Rick's side in what he considered to be a "safe zone". His small hand extended outward, holding the wide grey feather from his original in offering.

Delta's eyes narrowed into a hard glare but softened quickly, partly from the pain that stung across his eye socket with the expression. "Nah, that—that's okay, Morty. You can keep that one. I still got a handful back home."

Morty pulled the feather back to his chest, cradling it carefully, failing to hide the look of relief that washed over his features.

Delta dusted his coat off once again, trying to straighten it out and re-tuck his teal shirt back into his pants since it came undone in the tousle. "No hard feelings, right, Morty? My offer still stands about your Rick. You want him back? Just give that little button a press." He motioned to the coin-shaped disk lying on the floor near the table, and Morty stooped to pick it back up. The boy turned it over in his fingers, staring at it contemplatively. "Just one press, Morty...and I'll show up with your Rick in tow."

"Enough," Rick snarled, stiffening the arm holding the laser gun pointed at Delta's head. He reached into his coat and withdrew his portal gun, angling it to the wall beside the booth and shooting a portal home. "Let's go, Morty," he grumbled, not taking his eyes off of Delta the entire time.

Morty cupped the small disk in his palm and the feather against his heart, sent one last look back to Rick Delta-017—who smirked and winked at him as smugly as his damaged face would allow—then turned and stepped through the portal.

Rick eased himself over and stood before the swirling green gateway, glaring with utter disgust at the other Rick. "You show up in my dimension, and I'll kill you before you're even through the portal."

Delta smirked at him, trying not to wince when the move split his lip more. "Whether I show up isn't up to me to decide, pal."

Rick snarled his lip, teeth grit until they creaked again. He moved to enter the portal, but a quick "Hey—" stopped him from taking that last step through to home.

"Where's my crystals?"

Rick sneered at him, huffing an indignant snort through his nose. He played off that he'd completely forgotten about them and leaned over the booth seat where he and Morty had been sitting, using his free hand to snatch up the silvery briefcase containing the rare geode crystals he'd gone to pains to get. "You think I'm actually gonna hand over these valuable crystals for your shit trade after you pulled that bullshit with me and my Morty?" He huffed a bitten off laugh. "Fuck you. I'm keeping them. Go find another gopher, Rick-dick."

Finally, Rick backed through the portal, the green disk irising closed in front of his face, revealing his upstairs lab and his nervous-looking Morty, standing in wait for his return. He tucked his gun back into his coat, staring down at Morty as the boy shifted from foot to foot in anxious idling, still clutching the "gifts" from Delta close to his chest. The look on Rick's face must have been a little too fierce, because the boy whimpered and shrugged into himself, lowering his eyes to the floor at Rick's feet.

"I-I'm sorry, R-Rick..." he whined softly, nerves wound tighter than a bow string.

Rick snorted and turned aside, ignoring the boy and breezing past him toward his workstation. He tossed the briefcase to the workbench without care then plopped heavily onto the stool and rolled toward a project he'd been fiddling with on and off for a few days. Slender back facing Morty, he twisted wires together and tightened a few screws before sighing once he heard the soft sound of a sniffle.

"It...it isn't your fault, Morty," he said softly, spinning the smallish device around on the table distractedly with little pushes of his fingers. "You couldn't have known what that shithead was gonna pull." His only answer was a soft whine and more sniffles.

A sigh broke through Rick's thin lips, and he sagged, pushing the invention away and spinning the stool around to face his small companion. "Come here, Morty," he bid gently, holding one hand out, palm up in invitation. The boy responded immediately, trotting over to him and slotting himself to stand between the elder's legs. He continued to clutch those **things** against his chest, and Rick's eyes narrowed at them. He reached in, his long, slender fingers brushing against the backs of Morty's small hands and tracing under them in a gentle caress that had the boy opening his fingers to release the things he held into Rick's palm. With care, Rick laid each item gently to the table, not giving away how much he detested those objects' existence in his home, then returned his hands to Morty's slender arm, tracing down and squeezing it gently here and there, looking for damage.

"Let me see," he ordered softly, and Morty obeyed again, removing his stretchy shirt and moving along with Rick's guidance, turning a little to show his side and back to the old man's appraising gaze.

Calloused fingertips traced along the boy's flank, finding the beginnings of an ugly bruise that was a fat line across his side. It must have been where the kid hit the edge of the table.

" _Baby..._ " he muttered with a mere exhaled breath. He tenderly traced the blemish, then trailed his fingers up, brushing the back of his hand against the underside of Morty's wing, encouraging him to unfurl it so he could get a good look at it.

Morty spread his wing outward a bit, allowing Rick easy access to it and closed his eyes as the older man's gentle touch searched under his feathers and felt along the bones of the appendage, looking for any more injuries. He relaxed into the calming feeling of Rick's presence, his touch, the familiar smell of the lab, and the quiet breaths he could hear the man taking. It felt like such an intimate thing, just listening to Rick breathing, and Morty wanted to forget everything that had happened that day and curl into the elder's lap and kiss him all night long.

But...the feather...that Delta-017 Rick's promise...

Morty bit his lip and squeezed his eyes tighter.

He could have him back...his original...with his big, grey wings that could envelop Morty's entire body and cradle him in soft warmth. His original...who could soar with him through the skies and play hide and seek in the clouds. Morty always would lose, but it had been so fun to pretend he might have the upper hand sometimes. He could have his original back...preen his wings for him just like he used to, giggle and burrow under them when they slept together when no one else was home...sigh and moan beneath his body when he pressed him hard into the mattress and fucked him sure and strong.

Morty shivered and Rick pulled his hands away from his wing abruptly.

"Does it hurt?"

The boy looked over his shoulder at his new Rick, watching the old man tent his eyebrow in concern and dart his eyes around the younger's face, reading for signs of pain or unease. Morty had to smile at him, loving the novelty of how big that man was compared to his original—how much stronger, and yet, how much gentler he was in comparison. His original would touch and handle him with pressure equivalent to their size and hollow-boned anatomy. But his new Rick, with his bigger size and solid bones and proportionately increased strength...still touched him with even more tenderness than his original...than anyone.

"Just—Just sore, Rick," he answered, a light blush staining his cheeks.

"You sure? You look flushed," Rick pressed, narrowing his eyes at Morty's face.

"Mm-hmm," the boy responded, nodding and facing away to hide himself biting at his lip.

Rick sighed and scooted back away, standing and heading for a set of drawers along one portion of his workbench. He opened one with purpose and shuffled through the contents for a moment, small clinks of glass and metal tapping against each other sounding from the compartment. He withdrew a clear jar filled with iridescent golden liquid and returned to his seat, sliding back in and slotting Morty between his legs again. Uncapping the lid, he dipped two fingers inside and slathered them with the thick substance then brought them to the ugly bruise forming on the boy's side. With a feather-light touch, he spread the serum over the whole area then rubbed in small circles, working the healing solution in gently.

Morty sighed quietly and closed his eyes again, tipping his head upward with relief. The pain was already dulled to a slight throbbing ache, and he knew in another minute, even that would be gone. He recognized the serum as that golden sap he had helped Rick gather a while back from the weird twisty trees on that green jungle planet. Thank goodness for his Rick's penchant for keeping well stocked with such helpful things.

"There..." Rick intoned softly, rubbing the last of the serum into the boy's skin and watching the bruise turn from an ugly purple and dark blue to a gross mottled green, which faded quickly back into clean, unblemished skin. "Here..." he mumbled, nudging Morty to turn around in place. Two of his long fingers dipped back into the serum, coating them up to the second joints, then brought them up to the boy's little pink lips. "For the rest of the soreness everywhere else..." he told him, staring at Morty's mouth and trying to hide his swallow.

Morty obediently parted his lips and allowed Rick to slip his two fingers inside and trail them over his little tongue. It wasn't meant to be anything other than delivering medicinal aid to an injured companion, but the way Morty curled his tongue around Rick's fingers, and the way Rick teased the pads of those digits around the little wet tongue and traced the ridges of his bottom teeth...it was nothing short of sensual.

Morty sighed and closed his eyes, leaning more into Rick's hand and reaching up to hold around his bony wrist, panting through his open mouth softly and lapping at the elder's teasing fingers. A moan left his throat unbidden, and Rick hissed, curling his free hand around the boy's waist and drawing him in tighter. Morty closed his lips around Rick's fingers and sucked them off, slowly pulling his head back and letting them slip from between his lips, cleaned of the sticky sweet sap.

"Morty..." Rick moaned, leaning close and kissing at the corner of his mouth. His free hand roamed the boy's flank then drew around his back, cupping under a wing and tucking him close against his chest.

Morty hummed a little contented noise and turned that little bit to slide his lips along Rick's, his contented mewl turning into a soft gasp when Rick tilted their heads a little and fitted their mouths together. The elder's experienced tongue eased in and drew delicate circles against Morty's, tasting the sweet caramel flavor of the healing tree sap.

The kiss drew out, they taking their time. Rick held his little winged Morty against his chest, one arm wrapped around and holding under his wing, the other wrapped the opposite way, cupping against a small hipbone. His arousal warmed slowly, the evidence of it growing stiffer and pressing against the boy's groin where he stood between his long legs. But Rick didn't call attention to it. He just held his Morty and kissed him with slow motions of his lips and sensual swirls of his tongue until the hint of caramel had all been lapped up and all that was left was the soft taste of the boy's natural flavor.

Rick pulled away slowly, each inch further apart another regret that he wasn't still locked tight in that embrace. "I'm sorry, Morty... I'm sorry about today... We'll never go back there again, baby. I promise."

Morty nodded, casting his eyes downward, and Rick moved in to kiss his forehead tenderly, cupping the back of his feathered hair.

"I know you didn't get to see Storage or Agent like I promised, but...I'll—I'll get you a phone and put their contacts in, Morty. You can call them whenever you want, then, okay? But we're never going back to that fucking Citadel again, Morty. If—If you wanna see your Rick friends, we can arrange a different meeting place, okay? Whatever you want, Morty, just not the Citadel."

Another couple nods was Rick's answer, but the boy still wouldn't look at him.

Rick was desperate to try to find the right thing to say to make everything all right again. But he was never very good with other people. So he resorted to a tried and true tactic: promises and bargaining. "I—I'll—I'll make it up to you, angel. Wh-Whatever you want. Blips and Chitz...your favorite food...whatever you want, baby bird."

Morty nodded again, drawing his hands lightly along the neckline of Rick's teal sweater, staring at his fingers as he did so. "G-Grilled cheese mi-might be nice..." he said meekly, still unable to meet Rick's worried gaze.

The old scientist breathed a silent sigh of relief. "Grilled cheese it is then, sweetheart." He leaned in to kiss the boy's forehead again, then moved to his temple, then cheek, then pressed soft kisses to his small companion's lips, sighing against his mouth. But when Morty didn't respond the way he usually did, Rick opened his eyes slightly.

The teen was glancing off to the side, his liquid blue eyes staring at the feather and button lying on the bench.

Rick drew away slowly, that dead weight in the pit of his stomach back again with a vengeance.

Morty's eyes switched back to him immediately, like he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't. He swallowed nervously and froze, staring at Rick with wide eyes like prey worried it had been spotted by a predator. Rick's icy eyes bore into him until he couldn't stand it any longer, and he ducked his head, shame filling his cheeks with heat.

"You aren't really hungry right now...are you, Morty..." Rick's deep grumble of a voice made the boy shiver where he stood, even though he detected no anger in the timbre.

He shook his head slowly, unable to lie.

A slow breath pulled in through Rick's nose, then exhaled out between his lips, and Morty still found the sound intimate despite the nervousness buzzing in his veins.

"Okay, Morty... It's late anyway... Why don't you go to bed."

Morty shifted back and forth on his feet, drawing his arms in and hugging his own self. He dared to peek up at Rick, biting his lip and swallowing those buzzy nerves down his throat, but it only made it tickle uncomfortably.

Easing back on his stool to lean against the edge of the workbench, Rick spread his arms and rested them along the surface. The gaze he held on Morty was distant, non-accusatory...just blank. Blank and empty. That look was like a punch to Morty's gut, and his breath caught in his tightening throat. Rick had never looked at him with such empty, lackluster eyes. His eyes had always been filled with wonder or longing or adoration or lust, but most importantly, love. But never the stark, soul-crushing void that now left them dull and listless.

That look...that look crushed Morty's heart in one firm grasp. Because he knew...he **knew** it was his fault. Of all the things he had blamed himself for when things went wrong...this time...this time it was without a doubt Morty's doing.

"Go on, Morty," Rick told him gently, his features just as impassive as his voice. "Off to bed now."

He didn't want to move. He didn't want to leave. But something had him turning. Something had him even go so far as to take a step away.

"Don't forget your stuff," Rick's voice stopped him suddenly.

Morty turned back, eyes wide, watching Rick nod toward the feather and small disk on the table. His blue orbs widened a tad further, lines of stress etching into the skin around his upper cheeks and brows. Rick... **wanted** him to take them? But hadn't he plucked them from his fingers himself? Morty thought...he figured that...

"B...But..."

Rick quirked his brow, blinking at the boy with hardly any interest.

"Don't you...y-you don't..." He took a breath and tried again. "I thought you w-wouldn't want me to h-have it..."

Rick blinked a few more times at him. "Why would I want that, Morty?"

"B-Because...everything...and...w-with m-my original...and..." he stuttered, faltering hard.

Rick leaned forward, propping his elbows to his knees and allowing some of the light to come back into his eyes, if only to look upon Morty with a bit of kindness. "Morty...I wouldn't keep you from that."

"You...but...I thought...since you and me...but then...this..." the teen stammered, wringing his hands together and feeling his sweaty palms grifting against each other.

Rick sighed and hung his head a bit, giving it a little shake before leveling his gaze on the boy again. "Morty...it's okay... I get it. So go ahead and take your stuff and head to bed now. I'm sure you have a lot to think about."

Glossy eyes wide and mouth gaping, Morty stared at Rick with disbelief gurgling in his gut. As kind as his Rick was, he was still a Rick. That much was obvious with the vicious attack he leveled on Delta-017 back in the bar on the Citadel, or with the standoff he had out on the street with that other Rick who'd plucked him. Rick wouldn't even let that guy have his feather, so protective of Morty that he chose to destroy it rather than let the other Rick study it. But he had never heard of a Rick simply letting his Morty do anything he wanted, even if it could turn out to not be in the Rick's favor. That Rick...S-322...was the only Rick he had ever known in his short life dealing with a gaggle of Ricks to be so...trusting?

"You—You don't want to take it away from me? Or—Or break it so I can't use it?" It flew off of his tongue before he could keep the thought locked in his head. If it had been his original, the old man would have thrown a fit and smashed something given to him by another Rick. Ricks were jealous creatures, after all.

But Rick of Earth dimension S-322 sighed and hung his head a little again, lazy gaze hovering around the floor near Morty's small bare feet. "Morty..." The name died on his tongue, and he had to swallow in order to allow himself to continue speaking. "Haven't you learned by now?..." He lifted his line of sight, leveling a weary, sad sort of smile to the winged boy a few feet away. "I...I'm not..." He sighed and closed his eyes for a brief moment. "I'm not that kind of Rick..."

Tears shone in Morty's liquid blue eyes and one of his small hands absently drifted to his open mouth, cupping over it in shock. He knew that S-322 was different than most Ricks. Kinder. Gentler. But hearing him say that, knowing what it truly meant...that he was giving Morty the freedom to make his own choice about something that could alter their future forever...just...oh, God...just like he had when they first met! Morty inhaled in a little gasp. Even back then, Rick had allowed him to make the choice: stay with him or go back to the daycare. Morty had chosen to stay with him, and he had not regretted that decision since.

Small sniffles left his nose, and he wiped a hand under his eyes to clear away the stinging wetness that irritated them. He moved forward, toward his Rick, and threw his arms around his neck, pecking little kisses to his cheek. He hugged the suddenly rigid old man tightly and reveled in his heat and the stiffness of his wild, wiry hair. Soft lips brushed Rick's earlobe when the boy whispered breathily, " _No... You're the_ ** _best_** _kind of Rick..._ " Another handful of kisses against the scientist's temple later, and Morty withdrew and turned, picking up the feather and disk before running from the room, the thick door to the house sliding closed in his wake with a soft hiss.

Rick stared after him, frozen, not even sure if whatever just happened actually happened, or if he was imaging things he wanted to feel and hear. Swallowing, he relaxed back against the edge of the desk again.

"Lab...dim the lights..." he mumbled aloud, tilting his head upward so his voice would carry just a little, even though that wasn't necessary. His voice-activated systems could hear him even if he was whispering so quietly, his breath barely exited his lips.

In answer to his order, the clean white lighting of the lab dimmed, leaving him bathed in a sort of pseudo twilight.

Leaning his forearms along the workbench on either side of himself, Rick swallowed heavily and stared toward the ceiling. Little pats of wetness dripped onto his teal shirt, the fabric turning a darker shade as the liquid soaked in.

Why? Why now? Things were starting to go so good finally, for once in his long, lonely life. He at last had a companion—one of infinite teenage boys that were seemingly custom made to be with Ricks—an adorable little Morty that was sweet and beautiful and timid but also alluring and sexy. He'd opened his heart up again after so long, so many achingly lonely years of solitude, only now to have everything he'd only just built up with his perfect little angel ripped away in one clusterfuck of an afternoon.

Now he definitely understood why most Ricks rebuked feelings and emotion in favor of cold hard facts and science.

" _You weren't even meant to have one in the first fucking place!_ "

Rick Delta-017's snarled voice echoed in his head, left on repeat, taunting him with how accurate or not that statement had been. Was he **really**...not meant to have a Morty?... **Ever**? Had it all been too good to be true? All his efforts for naught? Was he just a compensating mechanism for Morty, who wanted to be with his original so badly that the boy settled on him since he couldn't have his original anymore? And now, with the looming threat of Morty possibility being able to get his original back...was Rick now just playing babysitter to a lovesick Morty that felt too guilty to press that button immediately?

Heart pounding in his chest and ears ringing, Rick stumbled to his feet and wrestled with an overhead cabinet until it popped open, revealing an unhealthily large stash of hard liquors. A shaking hand grasped the first one in reach and Rick had the cap unscrewed and the mouth of the bottle between his lips in seconds. He drank deep into the bottle, pausing between each swallow to take in a breath through his nose in order to keep chugging. It burned like unholy fire in his throat, seared his tongue, and bubbled like acid in his gut, easily adding to the tears already streaking his weathered cheeks. But he didn't stop until the entire thing was drained, and he chucked the empty glass across the room, satisfied when it shattered against the wall.

What was the point in pretending anymore? Staying sober, playing house, being fucking **happy**. Why should he care about anything, least of all himself? Who was he trying to kid? Rick from dimension W-005 was Morty's original...the one the boy fell in love with first...the one he served first...the one he still pined for to that day. Rick S-322 had been a pale substitute in comparison. Not worth choosing in the least, but only accepted because there had been no other choice at the time. But now Morty **had** a choice. He could choose to have his original brought back. He could choose to be in the arms of his first and only true love again, his actual grandfather, not a—a—Rick belched and tugged down another bottle, making quick work of the cap and tipping it to his wet lips—a cheap copy.

The outcome of that scenario was obvious. Of **course** Morty would want his original back, lack of original memories or not. It would still be the same body that held the boy, probably every night too. They could be together again, like some twisted fairy tale from a Disney movie or something. Who knew. Who cared? Rick was out. Left behind in the dirt while his precious angel turned his back to him and walked...no... **flew** hand-in-hand off into the sunset with his original by his side, both laughing it up like it was some sort of sick, cosmic joke pulled on Rick's already fragile heart.

Sick...he felt sick... He drank too much too fast... Not good, especially on his empty, already curdled stomach. Rick stumbled to the side, the room tilting already, and dropped the new bottle he'd been holding. His muffled ears heard the distant sound of it clattering to the floor and rolling away, spilling the contents with a deep " _dook dook dook_ " noise. He must have sucked down one of the alien liquors he had stored for special occasions. He hadn't bothered reading labels before yanking a bottle down and chugging away. Some of the shit he had was so hard, it could knock out an elephant for days with two sips, and it would wake up with such a bad hangover it would try to kill itself. At the worst, his insides would be eaten away and turn into a vile soup of blood and viscera that his body would expel through every orifice...and at best, his liver would just finally fail.

Rick wavered and pitched to the side, barely holding up his weight with a sweaty grip to the workbench. His legs felt like two wet noodles, and his guts felt like boiling acid. Shit, he'd probably picked a bad one then. A fitting end to such a monumental fuckup of a day.

He had always wondered if his home on Earth would end up being his tomb one day. Perhaps that day had come at last. Who knew? Who cared?

Just why? Why? Why, when he had finally found a ray of sunshine...a silver lining...a guardian...angel...

Rick tumbled to the floor and vomited so hard it felt like his guts were squeezing and turning inside out to erupt out his throat along with the bile and whatever the fuck he had blindly drank. His mouth burned, his throat felt like it was melting, and something that smelled like battery acid poured past his lips and ran down the side of his chin.

Coughing and sputtering, he tried to struggle up at least onto his elbows, but the strength drained from his muscles, and he was left boneless on the cold concrete. The most he was able to do was flip his head and lay on the opposite cheek, facing away from his puddle of rancid puke...even though he'd probably just make another one on that side soon anyway.

The stinging and burning in his throat and mouth and the churning in his guts made it easy for tears to pour out his eyes, but they fell for other reasons than physical discomfort. He shivered on the cold concrete floor and opened up, past the point of blackout thanks to that one bottle of mysterious booze. He doubted he'd remember anything after his first couple swallows tomorrow.

His cries were weakened from being so suddenly ill and debilitated, not even able to scrabble his legs enough to crawl a foot. But the more he lay there, wallowing in his own self-destructive misery and hatred, the more strength his sobs acquired, until finally he was wailing and screaming Morty's name to the smooth walls and hearing it echoed back to him tauntingly.

He had lost. He had lost his precious guardian angel to a fucking dead man. How could he be so pathetic? He was even **worse** than a J-dimension Rick, and those guys were literally pushovers. Why? Why didn't he have have the strength to fight for what he wanted? Why give in so easily without a struggle? Why let Morty have the choice to bring his original back at all? He could break that call button and burn that damn feather, and Morty would **have** to stay with him. It would be so easy!

Somehow, Rick found the strength to slide a limp arm upward and cup a numb hand over his wet face.

No... No... He couldn't do that...

Call him a pushover. Call him weak. Call him pathetic, sad, a poor excuse for a Rick... But he could not be called cruel...or heartless... Not simply because of the way he had turned out in his home dimension in comparison to other Ricks...but because if Morty were to stay with him...he would only want the boy to stay because he **chose** to...because he **loved** Rick. If Rick were to take that choice away from him, Morty would resent him forever. And Rick could not live with himself, could not truly enjoy the boy's company ever again, if he knew the kid was forced to stay with him against his will.

That thought alone made Rick's stomach flip and bile gurgled up his throat, burning his esophagus and putting a putrid, metallic-acid taste in his mouth.

So he cried some more in hopes of choking down the bile with mucus and snot. It was easy to bawl right then, anyway. Past blackout. Past reason. Past giving a fuck about his well-being. The world sucked. The universe sucked. His life sucked. The only good thing that came to his mind right then was Morty. Sweet, angelic little Morty. His precious baby bird...so close to flying the coop...

He threw up one more time and then wailed the boy's name on repeat until he finally passed out. The only coherent thought left in his head before blackness claimed his consciousness was how grateful he was that his lab was soundproofed from the rest of the house.

A small click sounded when Morty laid the small "call button" disk to the headboard shelf of his loft bed. Very carefully, he cradled the feather of his original Rick with both hands and deposited it onto a pillow, then laid down beside it on his side, head resting on a separate pillow, staring at the feather and biting his bottom lip.

He truly missed his original—his feathers and wings and rambunctious attitude. He was a lot different from his new Rick, his new Rick being of a more mild temperament, calm and collected. But his original was always energetic and spunky, ready to blast forth into new territories and take everything he could carry. Morty liked both of those personality traits—the calm and cool, and the flashy and wild. But did he prefer one over the other? He wasn't so sure.

Small, tentative fingers gently reached out and stroked along the silky length of the grey feather, the touch tilting it in just a way that a sheen of silver reflected off the vane. That was definitely his Rick's feather. He would recognize that powdery grey with a silvery shine anywhere. So it really was no lie that Rick Delta-017 could use it to clone his original back into existence. The guy said he had even more feathers too. All Morty had to do was press that button, and Delta-017 would show up with his original in tow...just like that.

Was it...was it what he really wanted, though? Truly and honestly? To see his original again...to touch his skin, his downy fluff hair, his grinning face...his wings and feathers... Have them...curl around him...keep him warm and safe...protected...loved...

Morty hiccuped on a sob and buried his suddenly wet face into his pillow, whining.

What he wouldn't give to have that again. What he wouldn't do.

But what of S-322? What of his new life being the man's Morty...a poor Rick that had never had a Morty...an old man that Morty had clearly seen was lonely when he first started living with him. If he got his original back, he would have to give up his new life with his new Rick and leave.

Was **that**...what he wanted to have happen?

Morty didn't know! He couldn't decide! He loved his original, and he loved his new Rick too! Both for completely different reasons. He tossed and flipped around on the bed, fighting with his thoughts, they tumbling around in his head, unable to land on a single solid opinion on what he should do going forward. He couldn't make up his mind! Really, he wanted both, but he knew that would **never** be an option.

One or the other—one or the other—which one—which one?!

"Aaaugh!" Morty wailed in frustration, turning face down into his pillow and pounding his small fists into the bedspread.

Maybe he shouldn't be thinking on what to do right yet. Maybe he needed more time to contemplate everything. He'd give himself a couple days to really think things through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hate me... >_<


	16. All Ricks Considered

Morty woke the next morning, eyes stingy and eyelids sticking together. He had cried too much yesterday, and he'd overdeveloped boogers in his eyes overnight while he slept. Yawning, he rubbed the offending dry crust off the edges of his eyelids and out of the corners of his eyes, already remembering everything that transpired before he fell into a fitful sleep.

The altercation on the Citadel street, then the bar with the Delta-Rick, the possibility of having his original cloned and returned to him, and his new Rick, the way the old man was definitely upset about it but putting up a stoic face.

He knew he still needed to make a decision on everything, but right then, he was still too tired and yet too buzzed about everything to make up his mind.

One thing he **did** know he had to do—he had to apologize to Rick. The old scientist had trouble brought down on him twice yesterday because of Morty...just for being who he was. He apparently drew other Ricks' attention to himself, and not in the best way. It had ended up giving Rick a hard time on the street, and he'd been physically attacked in the bar by Rick Delta-017. That fact had Morty hesitating just a bit about the whole "calling him" business, but the call would be about his original, so...

Morty shook his head and looked to the side, finding his original's feather still laying on the other pillow where he'd left it last night. Unable to help it, he smiled widely and picked it up, gave it a sweet little peck, then laid it back down before crawling to the end of the loft bed and swinging down over the edge to descend the ladder. He hopped down the last two rungs, then scurried out the door, eager to find his Rick and tell him he was sorry. Surely, his kind Rick would understand, and the old man would take him into his arms and hug him and give him that smile that always warmed Morty's heart. He could decide on what to do with his original later. He wanted to see his new Rick first.

He knew the old man wasn't in the bedroom, sleeping on his bed, because he wasn't there when Morty climbed down from the loft. He wasn't in the living room nor the kitchen, so that only left his lab.

Walking up to the sliding door in the kitchen, he waited the half second it took to hiss quietly and open for him, then stepped through the frame. Immediately, he noticed Rick lying face down on the concrete floor in the workbench area. Puddles of gross-looking puke surrounded him, and he was limp and still...eerily still.

A gasp leaving his throat, Morty rushed over, his bare feet slapping against the cold concrete in his haste to get to his Rick's side. ' _Not again! Not again!_ ' his mind shrieked, hating that he'd found Rick in a similar position many times before, before they had come together as one. Naïvely, he thought those times were over, but he should have known better. Rick was still a Rick, after all.

He carefully stepped over the puke and latched onto Rick's shoulder, shaking it as hard as he could, jostling the old man's body. "Rick! Rick! Wake up, Rick!"

An incomprehensible moan answered him followed by a weird wet gurgle in the scientist's throat.

Morty pawed at Rick's neck, feeling for a pulse, finding one, but it was subdued and a bit erratic. The old man's skin felt hot to the touch, and his clothes were humid and damp from excessive sweat. Even his wild, starfish-like hair was drooping and plastered to his forehead. Morty had never seen the man quite so wrecked before. His condition was definitely worse than all the other times he'd been found passed out drunk.

"No, Rick, please!" he begged, shaking him again. "Wake up! T-Tell me what to do, Rick!"

Thoughts of it being his fault that Rick was blackout, nearly dead drunk again had to be pushed aside. But that they were cropping up at all didn't make his panic any easier to handle.

Morty tried for all he was worth to pull on the old man's arm to at least drag him away from his rancid puke puddles. The smell was acidic and acrid, and it burned his eyes and made him gag, so he could only guess how it felt for Rick, who seemed sick already, to be lying in them. But try as he might, Rick's dead weight was just too much for him to lift, let alone drag. All he could do was pick up the scientist's arm and jostle his body to the point of just barely moving, but not good enough to actually move him more than an inch or two. He'd learned a while ago that the best he could do was roll the old man around from side to side, but even that was a hassle when dealing with such heavy weight.

A determined frown set across his brow and twisted his mouth downward. No! He was stronger than he used to be! He had been able to carry his Rick's weight enough to glide them both through the sky and into a lake that one time. Despite the fact that it practically destroyed his musculature, snapped his tendons, and crackled his bones, he had still done it. There was no way he could give up without **really** trying to move Rick.

Puffing himself up with a feeling of courage and stubborn determination, Morty grabbed hold of the old man's limp wrist with both hands. He pulled as hard as he could, digging his heels into the concrete and gritting his teeth. Spreading his wings, he flapped them hard, cupping as much air as he could under them and using it to push himself backward. With a series of heave-ho yanks (that had him growling in strain) and flapping wings, Morty was finally able to drag Rick's unconscious body a couple feet away from the sick on the floor.

Gasping for a breath, he released the old man's arm and doubled over, propping his hands to his knees and panting, wings drooping down toward the floor in exhaustion. If that floor had not been smooth, he probably wouldn't have gotten as far as he had. On carpet, it probably wouldn't have even worked. However, even though Morty had pulled Rick away from the puke, there was no way he was going to get him much further. And he was nowhere closer to getting the old man the help he obviously needed.

A thought occurred to him, then. He could talk to Rick's lab. He knew that the wily scientist talked to the room and it would answer back or obey his commands on occasion, so maybe he could do the same? It was worth a try!

"L-Lab?"

A perky sort of beep-like chime sounded, and Morty held his breath.

"Morty. Smith. Vocal code authorized. How may I help you?" a pleasant female voice answered from nowhere and everywhere.

Morty's eyes widened. Rick had...authorized him?...to use the lab's computer and functions? He had no idea. When exactly did the old scientist do that? Did Rick really trust him that much? Morty shook his head. Now wasn't the time to ruminate on that kind of thing. He had to help Rick!

"L-L-Lab, um...wh-what's wrong with Rick?" he ventured, hoping that would do.

"Scanning: Rick. Sanchez," the lab spoke with her halting, word-selecting speech pattern.

A whirring noise alerted Morty to something happening, though what it was, he wasn't sure. The scan maybe? A few seconds of the sound ended with a cheerful beep.

"Scan complete. Rick. Sanchez. Is unconscious. Moderate internal damage found. Compiling remedy. Please wait."

Some soft piano music began playing throughout the room, as if Morty had been put on hold with a call center. It was so strange and could have been rather funny, but the situation weighed too heavily on him to be amused at the moment.

A pleasant "ding" sounded, and the piano music cut off.

"Remedy compiled," the lab announced. "Please administer the remedy to: Rick. Sanchez."

A hissing sound alerted Morty to a compartment in the lab wall opening beside the white board, and he rushed over. Inside was a familiar-looking needle gun with a golden yellow cartridge of what he hoped was healing serum. He snatched it up and hurried back over to Rick's side.

"Th-This will heal him?" he asked, just to be certain.

"Yes," the lab answered simply.

"Hhokay," Morty breathed. He leaned down and pressed the needle into the old man's jugular and pulled the trigger. A quick hiss sounded, and the contents of the cartridge flowed into Rick's body.

A low groan erupted from the scientist's mouth, and he twitched a little where he lay. His breaths evened out, and the color came back to his skin, ashen as it usually was. His body seemed to visibly relax too, like his muscles had been drawn tight, even though he was lying boneless on the floor.

But despite that he seemed to be cured of whatever had been wrong, Rick still remained dead asleep, his deep breathing slow and steady, his body puddled on the floor, completely lax.

"Rick?" Morty wondered, shaking at his shoulder again. "Rick? Hey...w-wake up..."

Only deep, long breaths were his answer.

"Lab...w-what's wrong with Rick? He—He's not waking up."

"Rick. Sanchez. Is sleeping his hangover off. It is part of the compiled remedy that. Rick. Sanchez. Programmed to be made should a situation like this occur," the lab supplied readily.

"So...so he'll be o-okay?" Morty wondered, staring down at his Rick and gently brushing his sweat-matted hair away from his forehead. His temperature seemed back to normal as well, thank goodness.

"Rick. Sanchez. Will be fine," the lab said in her soft, feminine voice. It was certainly a comforting voice too.

Morty breathed a deep sigh of relief and knelt down, placing a kiss to Rick's sweaty temple. His nose curled at the smell that hit it, and he backed away much quicker than he wanted to. The old man stunk of bile and booze, and he smelled like a well-trafficked gym locker room. He was sure that Rick would be embarrassed of his state should he wake up and realize that Morty had been hovering all over him in order to help out. He may have been able to drag the old man a few feet on the smooth concrete, but there was no way he could drag him all the way through the house and into the bathroom to get him cleaned up. Perhaps he could get a bowl of water and a cloth and—

Hang on!

"L-Lab?" he asked, tilting his head upward so his voice would carry.

That perky, beep-like chime sounded again, indicating the room was listening for further commands.

"Um...c-can you help me get Rick into the bathroom in the sub-lab? I wanna get him cleaned up."

"Affirmative."

The large door to the freight elevator opened and long mechanical tendril-like arms snaked out from inside. They latched padded clamps to Rick's shoulders and lifted him off the ground effortlessly, drawing him back into the lift. Morty jogged in after him and stood by his side, holding his hands to the old man's dirty lab coat to help steady him from swaying too much while he dangled like he'd been hung out to dry.

The elevator took them down one level, and when the doors opened, the tendril arms, that were apparently extending out from the ceiling, carted Rick out of the lift and over to the center of the large storage room. More of those same mechanical arms whirred down from the ceiling there, and they exchanged Rick's body between them. The first set of arms withdrew back into the lift and the door closed with a satisfied hiss, and the second set of mechanical tendrils carried Rick the rest of the way through the room and into the bathroom. They took him to the left-hand corner shower and deposited his body onto his back on the smooth floor. The padded clamps released his shoulders gently then whirred as they withdrew back from whence they came.

Morty sighed with relief, not only that he could actually get Rick cleaned up now, but for the fact that he had a means to move heavy objects around. With the lab programmed to respond to his commands, and with Rick's abundant augmentations to his house, lab, and sub-lab floors, there was probably no limit to what Morty could do if Rick were ever unconscious or not at home. It felt oddly liberating, like he'd carried Rick down there himself.

With a satisfied sigh, Morty went to work, stripping Rick of his filthy clothes. It took some heaving and maneuvering, but he managed that feat relatively quickly. Just to make things easier, he also stripped his own clothes off, knowing they would get drenched if he kept them on. He turned on the overhead shower, and it rained down on them gently, the warm water a relaxing relief to the stress of not only that morning, but yesterday too.

Morty went to work washing Rick's unconscious body, lifting his limp arms and legs and scrubbing them down gently, even working the soapy cloth between his toes and fingers. Carefully, he washed the old man's face and behind his ears, then over his lean chest and stomach. He even washed Rick's genitals, careful not to squish or tug too hard.

He stood when he was finished and propped his hands to his naked hips. His wings spread a little and shook the water off of them as he surveyed the work he had done. He felt mostly satisfied with the results, but he hadn't been able to wash Rick's hair yet, or his back.

A determined look crossed his facial features, and he squared his shoulders. If he had been strong enough to carry that old man's weight through the sky to land relatively safely in a lake, and strong enough to drag him a few feet upstairs, then he was obviously strong enough to lift Rick into a sitting position. On top of that, with the slippery floor, he probably **could** drag the guy around a little again. So, resolute, he stood by Rick's shoulders and bent down at the knees. Grabbing under his armpits and hooking his arms across the old man's chest as far as he could, Morty strained and lifted with his knees, teeth grit and groaning with the effort. Hoping it would help, he even flapped his wings, trying to use the lift that it generated to tip Rick up into a sitting position. He managed it faster than he figured he could. With even more effort, Morty planted his feet on the wet floor and leaned backward with all his might, flapping his wings and tugging Rick's heavy body with him. The old man's wet butt skidded along the floor, but he did move, and Morty shuffled him back far enough to lean him against the curve in the corner bench seat of the shower. It cradled him on either side good enough to keep him upright, and Morty sighed with relief, sagging beside him and holding a hand to Rick's wide but slender chest while he panted to catch his breath.

With renewed enthusiasm, he hopped up and found the kind of shampoo on the supply shelf that Rick liked to use then slid onto the bench seat behind him. He swung his legs on either side of the scientist's shoulders and used his thighs to lightly pin his head in an upright position, careful to make sure he could still breathe. All set up, he went about washing Rick's silvery-blue hair, gently running his small fingers through the wiry strands and scraping his nails lightly along the scalp underneath. A little giggle left his throat while he swirled the foamy suds around the old man's bald spot, spending a minute or so drawing silly designs in it, including, but not limited to, a smiley face, a cartoony sun, and a flower.

All fun aside, Morty used the handheld sprayer hooked to the wall to wash the shampoo out, leaving Rick's hair wet and clean, no longer smelling like it had regurgitated booze mixed with stomach acid and sweat smeared through it. He spent another few minutes sudsing up the old scientist's back and scrubbed that down too before rinsing it off.

Finally, Rick was clean, and Morty stood in front of his slumped body, propped up against the corner bench seat, looking him over and satisfied with the results. His blue eyes trailed over the old man's face, observing the slack features with a fondness that reached deep into the depths of his soul. Moving closer, Morty knelt beside his old companion, glad that the floors were heated, even in the shower stalls. He wouldn't have to worry about leaving the guy naked there where he could get cold.

The winged boy reached up, stroking at Rick's slack face lovingly, feeling the soft skin and the wrinkles that crinkled it around his eyes and mouth. They were a lot more subdued than usual, with the old man's muscles being so lax in sleep. Morty's small fingers combed through Rick's wet hair, separating the clumping strands and ending up giving it a more frazzled look than normal. But he only smiled in mild amusement, too focused on taking in his aged lover's handsome features. He brushed the backs of his knuckles along Rick's jawline, staring at it as he did so, until he opened his fingers and cupped his palms beneath the man's ears and leaned in. Small kisses dotted Rick's temple and forehead, the teen's soft lips lingering with each delicate peck.

Morty watched and listened to his Rick breathing through slightly parted lips, taken by the intimacy of the moment. Reaching down, he drew one large hand into both of his smaller ones and stroked the weathered back of it. He loved Rick's hands. **Fuck** , he loved that old man's big, gentle hands. Ever since the first moment Rick laid a touch on Morty, he'd loved them. He couldn't get enough of the petting on his head or wings, of the delicate way the old man's fingers touched and trailed down his skin, or the warm palms that cupped his face, his hips, his thighs.

Morty leaned in and kissed along the blue veins and soft skin, placed sweet tokens of affection over each knobby knuckle, and rubbed his face along the backs of the fingers like a nuzzling kitten. He'd never mentioned to Rick that where he came from—in his reality—people nuzzling each other was a cultural thing. It was a sign...a sign of trust, of friendship, of love and affection. It could be used in greetings, in farewells, in goodnight wishes or congratulations—a social thing. Kind of like a hug.

Morty's original didn't like to nuzzle...not at first. But Morty slowly broke him of that. The funny thing was, his original didn't even notice he was doing it. But after he did start doing it, he'd nuzzle at Morty every chance he got, giving the boy so much "social affection" it was like he was making up for all the times Morty's mother never gave him nuzzles, or his father for that matter too, even his sister.

Morty now regretted not revealing much about his past to his new Rick. The old man knew the basics, what was in his file, but Morty himself never went into the way his family had looked down on him. They had avoided him, thought of him as the dumb slow kid with plain brown wings, the little annoyance that everyone just had to put up with because what else were they going to do with him. He had been the disappointment in the family...and everyone made sure he knew it. Despite that, he loved them, and losing them had been devastating...they were his family, after all.

But then his original Rick came along, and suddenly, he was "Grampa's favorite". His Rick took him on adventures, showed him amazing things, counted on him during dangerous missions, and trusted him to hand over the right screwdriver. His Rick had suddenly become involved in every aspect of Morty's life, and he went from being lonely and put aside to being front and center of someone's undivided attention. His Rick actually made him feel like he was worth a fuck.

How could he not have fallen in love with the grey-winged old timer.

But it was that love that eventually became their undoing.

Morty still hated to think about it, so he set those painful memories aside and came back to the present. He stared at his new Rick, like his old one, but bigger, stronger, but so much more gentle in comparison. Just watching the man slumped there and sleeping deeply, Morty could see the kindness crinkling at the edges of his closed eyes and the corners of his slightly parted lips. No other Rick that he had ever seen had those indications of a kinder, gentler disposition. Even though he knew that Rick could most certainly look just as angry or menacing as any other Rick, his more default temperament was much more good-natured and laid back.

Idly, Morty wondered what things had been different in Rick's timeline that had him turning out in such a way. Was it a better childhood? A better relationship with his wife, Diane? Did a comet pass by the planet when it was forming and make it spin just a little faster, and in turn changed the way everything developed all the way down until Rick was born in order to make him so caring?

Morty shook his head a little. He wasn't much of a speculator. Rick was the genius of their duo for a reason, after all.

Well, no matter how he ended up being as kind-hearted as he was, Morty was eternally grateful for it. He turned Rick's hand and nuzzled his face into the warm palm, nosing at the limp fingers to extend until they cupped along his cheek. He kissed the palm and sighed against it, eyes closed, relishing in how gentle those hands were, even while the man was sleeping.

When he was with that Rick, Rick S-322, he thought of nothing else, no one else except in passing or idle contemplations, comparisons, or old memories—only Rick and how much he cared for him...how much Morty truly loved him.

Tears trickled down Morty's cheeks, and he leaned in to gently capture Rick's lower lip between his, holding the back of the old man's large hand against his heart as he did so.

"I love you, Rick...and I'm sorry..."

For the rest of that day, after Rick groggily woke to find himself in the sub-lab bathroom, alone and naked with a towel wrapped over his shoulders, and all of the following day, Morty had been conspicuously absent. Rick did not know where he had gone, nor did he actively look for him.

At first, he thought that maybe after he'd blacked out, Morty had found the courage to hit that button, and that Delta piece of shit had already showed up with his original, and they'd all left, skipping through a portal. But after a while, signs cropped up that Morty had not gone, most notably that he'd been somehow taken to the sub-lab bathroom and thoroughly washed.

Despite having no desire to confront Morty, at least not yet, Rick still couldn't keep himself totally cut off from the boy. So he had disabled the sound barrier between the lab and the house, hoping to at least be able to hear him...even though he knew it would probably tear at his heart to just hear the kid's voice. But with the sound barrier gone, he was able to hear the little clinking of things being messed with in the kitchen during mealtimes, so he at least knew Morty was still there. That knowledge was met with a strange combination of relief and apprehension.

Rick asked his lab how he'd gotten downstairs, and the pleasant female voice relayed the story with her halting, word-selecting speech, and he nodded. Honestly, he was impressed with Morty's ability to problem solve, but his pride was clouded by despair.

He still felt he'd lost the boy's admiration, his loyalty...and most importantly...his love. He desperately wanted to see Morty, hold him, kiss him—make him forget about his fucking original Rick and focus solely on him, his new Rick. But his bleeding heart for the poor boy's situation kept him from even wandering out of the lab.

He had given Morty the option to choose his own fate, and he couldn't go back on that. Fuck that he was a Rick, who, for the most part, would have ordered Morty to stay and destroyed that call button. But how many times did he have to assert that he was different from the rest? So different that he was a weak piece of shit that couldn't even fight for what he wanted. So pathetic that he'd let his perfect little Morty turn his back and walk away from him forever. But...if it would make him happy...then Rick would let him do it...because keeping such a beautiful little angel shackled to himself would only make him miserable, and that would destroy Rick even more than if he'd let the boy go.

So he stayed in his lab and nursed his heavy depression with liquor, a little bit of drugs because he surprisingly didn't have much, and cold, unforgiving solitude. His appetite was nonexistent, so there was no need to go into the house, no need to accidentally run into his little Morty and see the look of pity he was sure would be there.

Rick leaned back on his stool, propping his back against the workbench behind him, tipping a bottle of good old Triple X to his lips and taking a few generous swallows.

God...fuck...he had to wonder if the boy had already pressed that button...

Were they all now just waiting around for the inevitable?


	17. The Inevitable Rick

Two full days had passed since the encounter with Rick Delta-017 on the Citadel. Two days of Morty toiling over what to do with the offer to bring his original Rick back to life. Two days of Morty not knowing what the hell to decide.

Staying away from Rick was increasingly difficult to boot. But he felt he had to, in order to not influence his decision on the matter. Even though he stayed away, however, he still tried to leave offerings of peace for his Rick. During mealtimes, he would prepare two servings and leave one on the counter near the lab door in the kitchen, hoping the old man would emerge, see it right away, and take it to eat. But disappointment was always Morty's reward when he went back in later, only to find the food had sat, untouched, and spoiled.

He worried for his Rick, but at the same time, he needed to work his own shit out before trying to help someone else with theirs. So he would make another meal and leave it out just in case, but he never tried to take it into the lab and feed the old scientist himself.

Morty was not exactly the most intelligent person in the universe, but he knew about some of the things that really mattered. And what really mattered to him were Ricks. **His** Rick, in particular. And he knew that his Rick was probably very upset with him. Case in point, the guy had stayed in his lab over the last two days, unequivocally avoiding Morty. The man never even came out to eat. So that he was, at the very least, **bothered** by the fact that Morty was contemplating bringing his original back was probably a complete understatement.

He knew the old man loved him. He knew that he had become the center of that super scientist's universe. And it hurt him, knowing that every moment he spent in consideration of reuniting with his old Rick, his new Rick was probably hurting even more. It was all Morty's fault too. But...but it couldn't be helped. He had to have time and quiet and solitude in order to think...in order to decide...what he truly wanted.

Morty laid on his loft bed, currently. Night had fallen over the land only a few hours ago, but the sun was setting earlier and earlier those days. Fall was already upon Rick's secluded neck of the woods, the deciduous trees beginning to change color, and the wind was becoming a bit more blustery as well. Morty was actually looking forward to seeing how winter would look there, where Rick lived, but...if he chose another path...he would never get to see it.

Blinking out of his daze, Morty focused his blue eyes on his original Rick's feather lying on the pillow beside him. He laid on his side and stared at it, contemplating it for a while. He'd taken to talking to the object over the last two days, like he used to talk to his original. Morty had talked about what happened after he died, about his life on the Citadel, how shitty it was. He talked to the feather about his new Rick, told it how well the scientist had been treating him, how gentle and charitable he was, how kind and comforting.

Morty said that he believed that things happened for a reason...even if the things that happened were not always good things. Even though his original Rick was gone now, and Morty missed him terribly, even though his death meant Morty had to spend over a year in the poor conditions of the Citadel, it brought him to his new Rick, a man that truly cared for him, needed him, trusted him, and looked out for him. He felt safe and loved by his new Rick, and he knew that he loved his new Rick back.

But if things happened for a reason, then meeting Rick Delta-017 was another thing of fate. That Morty received the call button and his original's feather was as well.

Now, he was at a fork in the road, presented an option to regain what was lost, or proceed on the path he had been following ever since his original's death. He was still not sure what to do.

"Tell me, Rick...what should I do?" he asked quietly, staring at the silvery sheen on the feather lying next to him.

The plume rested motionless on the pillow, offering no answers, and Morty felt himself tearing up, the lump thick in his throat and a hot sting at the edges of his eyes.

"I know what you'd say, Rick... You'd tell me to shut the fuck up and bring you back. You—You would hate that some other Rick had me now. You were always jealous. But if you're brought back...you wouldn't be **you**...I understand that. I know what it means."

He cried for a while, lying there beside the last piece of his original he had left. Carefully, he picked up the feather by the quill and held it against his forehead and nose, cupping it with his other hand.

"Oh, fuck...I loved you, Rick...I loved you so much... I miss you... B-But I love my new Rick too... I-I'm so confused... I...I just... I want..." He sniffed and swallowed thickly. "I wish someone else would decide f-for me... This sucks. My heart...my heart is tearing in two, Rick...and—and I don't know what to do anymore."

It was deep in his heart, however, that Morty **did** know what he had to do. It had been underlying his entire struggle over the last two days, ever since the offer to bring his original back was proposed. The answer had always been there, under the uncertainty and turmoil. It just took a while to actually let that heavy burden of doubt and hesitancy boil away and leave behind the raw truth of what he really wanted.

With that thought in mind, he allowed himself to cry a while longer, just letting himself get the pain of his decision off his chest as much as he could for the time being. It was a sure bet that he'd end up bawling again later, but for now, he just cried himself out until he laid there in bed, holding the feather against his face, trying to keep it away from his tears, even though a few still beaded along the silky vane.

There was no energy in his body to move, so he laid there some more, tired, but not even close to falling asleep. His thoughts were rather listless, not hovering on one subject too long, thinking in abstract images of cloudy skies and windblown grass, things that soothed the soul.

After what felt like forever, he finally blinked his eyes, realizing they were stingy and sore from having cried so much and hardly blinking after falling into that pit of mindlessness for a while. And even though the rims of his eyelids were wet with tears, his eyes still felt dry. Like a steady wind was blowing against them and making them feel like parched marbles in his head.

Slowly, Morty rose up from the bed and wiped at his face with one of the blankets, drying the tears and mopping up the snot. Afterward, he thought better of it and moved to the small shelf and used some tissues to finish the job, blowing his nose thoroughly. Able to breathe semi-clearly again, Morty reached and plucked the call button off the shelf and stared at it. His small thumb traced the round edge of the white coin-like object, his eyes zeroing in on the shiny silver button.

The door to Rick's lab swished open, startling him for how sudden the sound came. The old scientist sat on his stool in the corner of his workstation again, elbows to the desk and holding his head in his hands. The brown feathered fan that Morty had made and given to him for his birthday laid on the bench nearby, within easy touching distance.

He was not tinkering. He had not bothered with inventing for the last couple days. The only thing he managed to do was sit in his lab, drinking and avoiding Morty.

Even though he had heard the door, he didn't move. What would be the point of looking? It would just make his heart ache that much harder for things he wasn't supposed to have. He knew Morty was standing behind him, but didn't have the will to acknowledge his presence.

Rick wondered if his time was up now—if Morty was there to say goodbye. His long fingers gripped his hair tightly with the thought.

"Rick..."

He couldn't answer. The lump in his throat wouldn't allow him to.

"R-Rick...I..."

His heart thudded so loudly, it nearly drowned out the boy's next words.

"I...I've made my de-decision..."

Rick Sanchez's screaming heart seized, and his blood ran cold.

This **was** it.

A raspy laugh started to bubble up in his throat. He was barely tipsy from nursing a bottle of booze all afternoon—but only one so far, and one he knew the label of that time.

"They were right...you know..." he grumbled low, staring at his workbench, eyes falling into the depths of a divot nicked into the surface. "I'm a shitty, lame Rick. At the very least, I'm supposed to be firm with my Morty, and tell him what to do and dictate every choice." He swallowed past that lump in his throat, the ache traveling all the way down into his chest to linger uncomfortably there—a knot against his breaking heart. "B-But I can't do it because I'm too weak, too kind...too **pathetic**." His breath hitched a little on a half-aborted chuckle. "I'm supposed to be 'a Rick'... But—But I don't have it in me to be cruel or manipulative, or—or even just demanding. I-I don't even have the strength of will to fight for what I really want."

Small feet padded closer until Rick felt the warmth of a presence near his side. A little hand gripped his shoulder and tugged, encouraging him to spin on the stool. The old man came face to face with his little winged angel, finally laying eyes on him after two full days...and saw him standing there with the grey feather and the button. The old scientist's countenance twisted into a pained grimace, and he faced away.

"You **can** fight for what you want, Rick," Morty began, his sweet voice music to Rick's old ears after two days of missing hearing the boy speak. "I saw you do it. At the Citadel, when that Rick in the street plucked me. You wouldn't let him get away with anything. A-And then when Delta-Rick pushed me. You b-beat the crap outta him."

Rick sneered. "I bruised and bloodied up his face a little, that was hardly—"

"But you did it for me, Rick. You—You fought for me."

Rick shook his head. "It's not the same thing, Morty."

The boy looked down, at the things in his hands, biting his lip. "You could do it now, though."

Rick stared at him, eyes scanning over the kid's face, looking for something, anything, swallowing nervously.

"You could fight for what you really want now, Rick."

The old man's breaths were shallow, taken through slightly parted lips. "What would be the point...if it's not what someone else wants...?"

Small, slender shoulders lifted and dropped back down in a shrug meant to be casual, but seemed more nervous and uncertain than anything else. "You'll never know until you try, Rick..."

Icy grey eyes darted back and forth between the teen's pretty blues, struggling hard to read anything at all in their azure depths. Unfortunately for him, Rick couldn't determine anything from the slight upturn of Morty's eyebrows or the way he nibbled at his plush bottom lip—actions indicative of "hope", but Rick was never good at reading another's emotional states, especially when his own was in such turmoil. Relationships were never his strong suit, not by a long shot. Even though he'd gotten a lot better at it ever since Morty came into his life, he was still a novice. But...like the kid said...he would never know unless he tried...right?

Shakily, the scientist lifted his hands and extended them toward Morty.

The boy stood still, holding the things Delta had given him, staring at his older companion with as neutral expression as he could muster. It was killing him to watch Rick's hands reaching for him, the fingers twitching, palms glinting with sparkles of sweat, shoulders and arms trembling. Rick's face began twisting with anguish, fear, hope, uncertainty, all warring for dominance. Sweat glistened on his forehead, and tears visibly brimmed his eyes.

Morty was in aghast wonder. Never had he seen a Rick so torn up inside...never over **him**. He didn't think any Rick could care or want a Morty enough to look and act that way. But then he remembered, all Ricks were actually different. Some ways were very small, but some were very big. And that Rick, Rick S-322, wanted to keep him so badly that he was trembling and in tears.

Morty never felt so wanted before.

Rick's wet eyes dipped to the things in Morty's hands, and he froze his already molasses slow advance. A whimpering whine left his throat, and his hands began a retreat instead of continuing their approach. "I...I-I can't...Morty..."

"You can, Rick."

"No..."

"Fight for what **you** want, Rick."

"I can't..."

"You're a Rick—"

"I'm not like them!" he shouted, smashing his fist to the table, just barely missing the feathered fan. He turned partly away. "How many times have I told you?! I'm not a psycho or a control freak or a-a-a flat-out fuckin' **monster**! I'm just a weak-willed, pathetic old man! The worst fucking Rick ever! I suck so much, I can't even keep the one thing I care about most from slipping through my fingers!" Rick ranted, a deep ache in his gravely voice.

"I've got your adoption papers, signed with **my** name, with **my** dimensional designation, but it doesn't fucking mean anything if you're not willing to stay with me, Morty! And if I force you...if I force you...fuck, Morty, it'll just make you hate me! I can't do that to you! I can't take away your will and your freedom like those other dick-suckin' Ricks that practically imprisoned you on the Citadel! Baby, look at you..." Reaching in, he stroked his hands along Morty's softly rounded face and down his throat, then curled them over the boy's small shoulders. He ruffled his fingers through the feathers along the leading edge of Morty's wings, encouraging them to unfurl and spread outward. Rick bit his lip and exhaled at the sight, a tear finally breaking free down his cheek. "These beautiful wings are meant to soar, baby bird. They're meant to carry you to whatever future you want, however you want it. Even if you ran outside right now and took off, I'd let you go, because if that's what you really wanted, I can't stop you, Morty. Because at least I know, wherever you're going, you're fuckin' flying there on your own." He gently gripped into the boy's wings, feeling the lean muscle and fragile hollow bones beneath his fingers. "I will not be a shackle on you, Morty!" he shouted, giving the petite teen a small shake with the hold on his wings. "I won't—I can't... K-Keeping you grounded...forcing you to stay... It would have to be the worst form of punishment for you... A-And I will not...I can't...do it... I-I can't take y-your free will away from you, Morty... Any other Rick would have already done it...but I'm just **not** that kind of Rick..."

After that tirade, both of them were in tears.

Morty whined, his lower lip trembling, and wiped the back of his hand holding the button across his eyes.

Rick stared at him before the sight was too much, and he turned and hid his face in his hands, elbows to the desk again.

He felt like such a coward.

"R-Rick..."

Rick huffed and tried to control himself from that outburst, but his erratic breaths just made it easier to allow tears to soak into the palms of his hands.

"Rick...please..."

"Go, Morty..."

Morty stared at him, tears dripping from his widening eyes.

"Go push that button...go get your original back. God...fuck..." The old scientist gripped his hands into his face and wanted to tear his skin off and screech until he bled to death. "Just...be happy, Morty. That—That's all I want..."

Morty frowned and sniffed, wiping at his face again. "It's **not** what you want, Rick. Well...maybe you do want that..but that's not the **only** thing you want. And I know what you **don't** want too. You **don't** want me to push this button." He held the small disk up a little.

"Of course I don't!" Rick growled, slamming a fist to the work surface and rattling metal components nearby.

"Then fight for what you **do** want, Rick!"

"I can't...I can't..." the man whined, deflating again just like that.

Morty grit his teeth, frustrated. "Just because you fight for what you want, doesn't mean I **have** to go along with it, Rick! I still have this button, and I can still push it whenever I want, so what you do in the meantime is fine! You can fight all you want!"

"And do what? Huh?! Restrain you? Take the fucking thing away from you and break it so you can't push it? We've been over this, Morty! I won't take away your freedom!"

"You can't take away my freedom by fighting for what you really want, Rick!"

"That doesn't make fucking sense, Morty!"

"There's more ways to fight than being physical, Rick!"

Rick panted hard from the adrenaline pounding through his veins. His body felt hot, his face was wet, his head was buzzing from the alcohol and their argument. His eyes bore holes through Morty, watching the boy cry and glare at him, probably one of the first times he'd ever done so. They were always on good terms before. It seemed the honeymoon was finally over.

And so was everything else.

So why the fuck was he restraining himself anymore?

Fight for what he wanted?

He fucking wanted **Morty**.

Snapping a hand out, Rick latched onto Morty's small, thin bicep and yanked him against his chest. He devoured the boy's mouth with a voracious hunger he wasn't sure he'd ever felt before. Every nerve was tingling, every synapse in his brain on fire. His thick tongue licked hotly through Morty's small mouth, counting his teeth and checking the health of his gums. A moment later, he pulled away, sucking on the kid's bottom lip until it popped from between his lips with a wet slurp.

Morty shivered against him and draped his wings over his old companion's shoulders and down his back. "Say it...s-say it, Rick... I need to hear it..." he mumbled, breathing against thin lips hotly.

Rick swallowed and cupped the teen's face in a hand, fingers buried deep in feathered hair.

"I want you, Morty..."

"Say it..."

The old man's heart felt like it was going to burst from his chest any second. "Stay with me, Morty. Don't call that bastard... Stay by my side—be my little helper, my companion..."

Morty leaned in, so close, his nose brushed Rick's flushed cheek and his moist breaths puffed over the man's lips even more, raising the temperature between them to nearly sweltering. "More...fight for it, Rick... Fight for what you want..."

"Hhoh God, Morty, I love you!" Rick cried out, chest heaving and humming on the inside, every limb trembling as he clutched Morty against himself. "Be mine, Morty. Let it be Rick and Morty...Rick and Morty forever and forever... My guardian angel..." He whined and huffed airy sobs, pinning their foreheads together and squeezing his eyes tightly, tears streaming his cheeks. "My sweet guardian angel..." he croaked and hunched over him, his whole body wracking in sobs. "S-Stay with me...don't go... Don—Don't go, Morty... Oh, fuck...don't...d-don't leave me all alone again...not again..." Rick inhaled shaky, rapid breaths until he could stabilize enough to moan out, "I l-love you so much, Morty... Goddammit...I never...never loved this much...in my l-life... Why...why did it have to take this long...to find you..."

"Hooh Rick..." Morty moaned, tears on his own cheeks. He tilted his head and put little kisses along Rick's forehead and one delicate peck over each closed eyelid. The taste of the salt of the older man's sweat and tears spread over his lips, and the boy licked it up, enjoying the flavor, but not reveling in it at all.

He chose his next words carefully.

"You're so wonderful, Rick. You're so kind and sweet." He trailed kisses down Rick's nose and put a warm, solid kiss to his closed lips, their parting a soft, wet noise that carried throughout the room. "And...I-I told you...I made my decision... And I-I'm not going back on it now..."

Rick lowered his head, eyes falling shut, failing miserably to rein in the bit back sobs that shook his shoulders and caused his teeth to grit so hard, they groaned in his head. His arms went slack and slid away from Morty when the boy drew back, knowing the kid was standing in front of him and watching him crumble to absolute pieces.

Morty had wanted him to fight for what he wanted...but what had been the fucking point, in the end? Just to cruelly get his hopes up? He'd never pegged Morty to be the heartless, manipulative type. Was it all just one final "fuck you, you aren't good enough and you never will be" slap in his face, just to drive in the point that Morty ultimately belonged to his original Rick?...just to make the sting of Rick's own Morty-less universe that much more sharp?

But...he thought...that they were happy together. He really thought that Morty cared about him. Had it all been a lie?...from the very beginning? Had Rick been played by an ultimate ruse?...one that tricked him into a false sense of happiness and security, only to be utterly dumped by the wayside once something better came along? Had he really just been...a placeholder?

Rick Sanchez had never felt the kind of pain he felt right then before in his life. No physical injuries could hold a candle to the sensation of shattered glass pumping through his veins nor the rusted nails being hammered into his faltering heart. The sting behind his bloodshot eyeballs felt worse than being sprayed in the face by acid spewing weednals on Tronadon-6—and **that** had sucked balls. His guts were twisted, filling with acid and gurgling, everything rolling around in there like each individual organ was on it's own separate carnival ride. Son of a bitch, he felt so sick.

Losing Morty felt even worse than losing his wife...than watching Beth turn her back on him... With how hard his heart was pounding, with his face tingling and extremities feeling like lead weights with hardly any sensation, and body feeling so hot, the sickness in his guts spread to every nook and cranny of his being...Rick wondered if he just might end up dying of a heart attack right then and there.

Moving away from him, Morty took a step and turned to the side, facing the workbench, but Rick couldn't watch him anymore. It felt like his insides were shredding from the glass shards turning into steel blades and riding the current of his alcoholic bloodstream.

A small tap of metal on metal reached his ears, probably Morty laying the call button on the countertop. Then another metallic click-clack—oh, God, he pressed it!

Rick's whole body went white hot then numb in an instant, and his breath caught in his throat, getting choked up in the lump that refused to dislodge.

—KRISHKK-k-k—

Startled by the sudden sound of metal shattering and sparks crackling, Rick jerked on the stool and whipped his head up, feeling so gummed up inside that it seemed to take an entirety.

Did Morty touch one of his inventions and hurt himself? Was that fucking call button booby-trapped?! If Morty had been hurt by that piece of shit **again** , he'd hunt that fucking Delta-Rick down and—!

Rick blinked.

Morty turned to him, smiling through the tracks of tears on his face. Rick fought to clear his vision, wiping at his own eyes and trying to see clearer the sight he imagined he beheld initially.

"This is my decision, Rick," Morty told him firmly, not stuttering, completely sincere.

On the workbench was the call button...or what was left of it...smashed to bits, the outer casing split and mangled and the intricate inner circuitry exposed and shattered beyond repair. It took some effort for Morty to heft the hammer still held in his right hand, laying it to the bench beside the wreckage with that same metallic click-clack sound, as if its job was now completed.

"M...Morty..." Rick couldn't believe what he was seeing. "But...ugh... I th-thought... What about...y-your Rick?"

Morty gave him a coy smile, biting at his lower lip and ruffling his wings behind his back. "What are you talking about?... You **are** my Rick."

Rick's vision swam again, blurring the small boy standing in front of him until he was nothing but a brown, yellow, and blue blob. "M-Mor-Morty..." he whined, his whole body back to shaking again. He slid off the stool, sending it rolling away as he fell to his knees before his precious angel. The concrete was not forgiving, but he barely felt it in that moment. He blinked, and his vision cleared when the tears trapped against his eyeballs were wiped away, and the sight before him was heavenly: his little winged Morty, grinning at him and extending his arms around him, drawing him into a warm and loving embrace. Rick fell into it like diving into oxygen, wrapping his long arms around his Morty—oh, fuck, **his** Morty!—and embraced him firmly.

"I love you, Rick."

With his shame having been burned up a while ago, Rick whined and cried against Morty's yellow shirt, clutching him, never wanting to let go again.

"Morty...my angel...my precious angel..." He leaned in and took the teen's lips, the press gentle but firm, holding him as tight as he dared. "I-I was so scared...I th-th-thought I lost you, Morty..." Shaking hands grappled to hold around a thin waist, a slender chest, frail shoulders. "I th-thought I was gonna die, Morty... Losing you...i-it woulda been my end, Morty," he admitted, his voice shaking just as much as his hands. The winged wraith leaned into the shaky touches, the desperate kisses, reciprocating as fiercely as he could, as if he could break the conception that he was as fragile as he literally was.

"Sorry, Rick... I'm so sorry," Morty lamented, brushing his lips firmly along Rick's as he spoke. "I-I-I never meant to hurt you, Rick..." The teen immediately went in for more kisses as he caressed his wings along Rick's arms and back, knowing how much the old man loved it when he did that. The vibrations of his low moans tingled along the boy's lips, and he sighed and ate them all up greedily.

Morty broke the kiss and leaned back, then brushed his feathers along Rick's face, wiping away the tears that had streaked down lightly wrinkled ashen cheeks. Rick caught some of those long flight feathers gently and brought them to his lips, kissing them reverently.

" _I love you, Morty. My precious guardian angel..._ " he whispered to the silken plumage, grey eyes with icy flecks of blue staring at the boy over the feathers.

Morty bit his plush lower lip, his vision misting again. "Rick..." he whined lovingly. His heart flooded his entire body with warmth, pounding so hard, the blood roared through his ears. And Morty knew...he **knew** he had made the right decision yet again. There really was no other decision to make, no other path to take. He and Rick from dimension S-322 were together now, and that was how it was supposed to be.

"Rick..." he mumbled again, leaning close and putting soft little kisses along the man's brow, "I love you too. Just you, Rick... Only you..." He moved lower and swallowed up the gasping moan emitted from Rick's parted lips. His wings wrapped around the scientist's shoulders and his arms wrapped around his neck, cradling his head of crazy hair close as they kissed so deeply, it felt as though their lips were fusing together. " _Wanna show how much I appreciate you, Rick..._ " Morty whispered against those thin, moist lips that he loved so much. " _Wanna make up for upsetting you...for making you think I might actually choose someone else...when my only choice was you all along..._ "

Sliding downward, Morty kissed a line down the old man's throat, little tongue taking teasing laps at the adam's apple, bobbing with each heavy swallow Rick took. Little hands stroked a long, lean chest over top of that iconic teal shirt. He tugged on the fabric and Rick leaned back, making it easier for the boy to pull the shirt out of his pants and expose more skin. Morty knelt and kissed at Rick's belly, finding the skin still softened by age, just like he remembered it from the last time they had been so intimate. His lips trailed along, circling the scientist's bellybutton while he dallied with the belt buckle at the old man's waist, the metal clinking together as he pulled the leather through the clasp. A button plucked open and a zipper slowly dragged down, and Morty was spreading the flaps of Rick's brown pants open and exposing the slightly tented boxers hidden inside.

Rick groaned without shame, shaking hands not knowing what to do, so he held one up to the edge of the workbench above his head and supported some of his weight on the floor with the other. He grunted and hissed, watching Morty's pretty little lips part and nibble at the fabric that pulled more and more taut over the head of his rapidly swelling erection. He even teased his little pink tongue through the buttoned opening in the boxers, swiping at Rick's straining length hidden inside.

"Fuck...shit..." he growled, one eye narrowed in a wince, his arms starting to shake now too, trying to keep his weight lifted off his knees as much as he could. The concrete that had not been forgiving when he fell to it a few minutes ago was now completely registering to his old bones, the cold seeping in and making his knees ache to the point that it was detracting from the pleasure his little Morty was so graciously bestowing on him.

Hating to put a stop to things before they even got started, Rick reached out and patted around until his hand landed on the rolling stool and dragged it back over. "H-Here, Morty," he huffed, grunting as he pushed himself up to sit on the seat again. The relief was immediate, and he sighed now that the strain was off of his knees. He made a mental note to do a few upgrades to those when he got the chance. "S-Sorry, baby," he said, terrified that he'd killed the moment.

Morty smiled up at him and slid his hands down the old man's thighs to rub soothing circles into his knobby knees. "It—It's okay, Rick," he replied, leaning to put a kiss to each knee before standing again and slotting himself between the scientist's legs. "I know you're getting too old for this shit." He giggled when Rick gave him a bemused smirk.

Teasingly, Morty trailed a finger down Rick's hidden length, biting his lip when the thing lurched against his light touch. "I just hope you'll never be too old to enjoy this, Rick. I still wanna show you how much I appreciate you...how much you mean to me... And that's never gonna change, old man." His small fingers picked at the little button holding the fly of Rick's boxers closed, undoing it. The fabric spread apart without the support, exposing the skin underneath through the slitted opening. Morty bit his lip and reached inside, grasping the thick rod of flesh, pulling it out through the fly while he pushed the cloth of the boxers aside to allow it an easier escape.

"Fuh-Fuck...Morty..." Rick groaned, tensing and staring down at his small lover, manipulating his sex so tenderly.

The diminutive teen leaned close, trailing his fingers along the hot length, tracing the veins twining it, brushing his thumb up along the rigid underside until it came to the tip, only partially sheathed by foreskin. Morty licked his lips and circled his thumb over the slightly hidden blushed head, smearing a heavy bead of pre-cum in slow circles, very lightly dragging the digit through the man's slit, making the tip glisten in the clean lighting of the lab. He watched Rick's breathing pick up, the old man's chest taking deeper and deeper pulls of air while he hooked his thumb into the silky folds of foreskin and dragged it downward, fully exposing the plump head of his cock, flushed and shiny. Morty leaned even closer, bringing his mouth so close, all he had to do was purse his lips in order to touch the slick flesh. Instead, he blew softly, his breath ghosting over Rick's cock and making it pulse heavily in his hands.

Rick gave a full body shudder, whining with a need so intense, his eyes nearly crossed. He hadn't felt that stark of a desire since that one time a while back when he woke up to his little Morty snuggling against him, mumbling dreamily in need for him. That the kid was actually wanting his original at the time was beside the point and no longer relevant now. That night had been intense—the first time Rick had finally acknowledged that he wanted his Morty a lot more than with just an idle desire, but with a full-blown raging need. He'd come so hard that night, it was painful.

Rick stared down at his little Morty, shaking hands reaching back to grip at the edge of the desk behind his back and leaning further against it. Morty looked up at him, big, round blue eyes gazing up at him, full of adoration and want, little lips bridging the gap and planting a sugary sweet kiss to the head of his cock...

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he came that hard again...

More pre bubbled from his tip and slid down, merging with the seam of the winged teen's lips pressed against it. Morty moaned softly and drew away, sliding his tongue along his slick lips and humming like the flavor was delicious.

"Y-You're so wet, Rick," he mumbled, voice low and as seductive as he could make it. "Do—Do you like this?" he asked, leaning back in to mouth up along the thick length and tickle his tongue through the slit in the tip, lapping out more of the salty wetness. "Do I turn you on, Rick?"

The old scientist grit his teeth and eked out a high whine, slumping a little on the stool. The muscles in his thighs twitched, his belly tightened visibly with his shirt pulled up to expose his midriff, and his arms stiffened where they were bent to hold onto the edge of the workbench. "You...you f-fucking kidding me, M-Morty?" he huffed, licking his dry lips only for them to go dry again immediately from breathing so heavily through them. "Nothing...nothing beats you, baby bird... I'm so lucky...so fuckin' lucky to have g-gotten such a perfect treasure like you, Morty. And I'm gonna hoard you, l-like I hoard supplies, Morty. Gonna keep you all to myself."

Morty hummed sweetly, nibbling his lips along the flushed head of Rick's cock, mouthing at the pre dribbling from it like a slowly leaking faucet, letting it string to his lips, between them, swiping it up with his tongue only to have it string to that too before he leaned back in to nibble all over again.

"Tell me more, Rick..." he begged, his breaths puffing over the wet heated skin and making Rick shiver.

The old man panted and uselessly licked his lips again, staring down at that vision as though if he looked away it would vanish. "Gonna...I-I'm gonna kill anyone that dares touch you, angel. Gonna beat the shit outta anyone that—that even just looks at you."

"More..." Morty whined, placing dulcet kisses down the entire length, holding the throbbing flesh still with both of his small hands.

"Augh shit, M-Morty!" Rick gasped, thighs twitching harder. "I'm...I-I'm gonna f-fuck you, Morty... G-Gonna fuck you so sweet, baby bird... Gonna...gonna take you apart nice and slow, angel... Show you...sh-show you what you mean to me..."

"Don't stop, Rick," the boy mumbled, lips preoccupied with nibbling along the spongy ridge of the scientist's cock-head, smearing through more pre-cum and looking glossy.

Rick's eyes were starting to water from not blinking, afraid that the awesome sight between his legs would disappear if he did. He gulped heavily, even his throat drying up with all the heavy breathing. "Holy shit, Morty!" he growled, legs shuffling apart a little more. "Look at me, baby...look what you do to me... Y-You ruined me, Morty...fuck, I'm ruined, ruined..." he whined, finally closing his wet eyes and shaking his head in disbelief. Sweat trickled down his temples and glistened along his exposed skin. His limbs trembled. His breaths came erratically. "Y-You're gonna k-kill me, Morty...gonna knock me flat... I'm dead...dead... Fuck, baby, shit..." Long fingers finally released the workbench and gripped tight into the teal shirt over his chest, unwittingly drawing it up higher and exposing more of the planes of his stomach to Morty's eager vision. "I-I'mma have a heart attack, M-Morty... You suck so sweet, angel—gonna put me six feet under..."

Morty giggled and slurped at the head of Rick's erection, so rock hard it could probably cut diamonds. "Don't worry, Rick... I'll make sure to make it so good, you won't wanna die, 'cause you wanna stay alive to feel more." His plush little lips parted and finally took the entire head into his mouth, cheeks hollowing and creating delicious suction that drew Rick in even further.

The old man sputtered a haphazard cough and stiffened, a tremor shimmying down his entire body, from the tips of his wild, starfish-shaped hair, to the tips of his curling toes. "Sweet mother of fucking—hooohh Morty!" he cried.

Bobbing his head deeply several times, Morty hummed around the hot staff in his mouth, the small vibrations tingling through Rick's groin and lighting his nervous system on fire. The teen sighed through his nose and took a deep breath, then slowly forced himself down along the fat length, further and further.

Rick's eyes widened with each disappearing centimeter, his muscles tensing tighter and tighter as the boy took more and more of his pulsing meat into his little mouth. He felt the back of Morty's throat give an uneasy swallow against the tip, then it was opening up to fit the fat head down inside it. Rick shuddered and gasped, the tight ring of Morty's throat strangling his dick deliciously, and his hands flew down to lightly cup the boy's face, new tears streaking his soft, overstuffed cheeks. The kid was trying so hard for him, doing his absolute best to deep-throat a cock that was really too big to be doing that, with how small he was in comparison. Rick couldn't help sliding one hand down around Morty's chin and cupping his fingers against his little neck. He felt the slight bulge of his cock lodged in the boy's throat, and he couldn't help the indulgent groan he emitted, pouring from his lips like warmed syrup.

Morty lurched finally and gagged, pulling back all the way. Rick's spit-slicked length bobbed free of his wet lips, thick strands of saliva still connecting them together. A few coughs sputtered out of the boy's mouth, and he looked up at Rick with wide, watery eyes and tears trailing his cheeks. "I-I—" he cleared his throat and tried again, licking some of the spit off his lips and swallowing with some difficulty. "I'm sorry for—for upsetting you, Rick. I-I love you. You...you m-mean more to me than—than anything."

Rick shook his head and swiped his thumbs over the boy's wet cheeks, eyes alight in wonder and adoration of that little treasure standing between his legs. "I believe you! Oh, shit, I believe you, Morty!" He bent in closer and kissed Morty's forehead and each eyelid that closed for him to do so. "You—you don't have to do something like that to prove how you feel for me, baby. That you're here with me is proof enough. My little angel..." he cooed, petting downy brown hair reverently, "I-I'm just too big for you to be doing that."

Morty smiled up at him, lips wet and tears stuck to his eyelashes like glittering crystals. "I l-like it, though, Rick... I like how much bigger you are than me..." He pulled his face away from the old man's hands and placed a slow kiss to each palm before pressing them aside and leaning back down to his lap. "I think...you like it too..." he hummed softly, lidded eyes staring up at him while his perfect little lips parted and a perfect little tongue slid out to take delicate little swipes at the head of his soaking wet cock again.

So many delicious adjectives could describe that perfect little angel and the things that he did.

Rick's hips rolled of their own volition, nudging his tip back into Morty's mouth again by sheer accident. But as soon as the hot moisture of the boy's lips circled his girth again, Rick groaned like he'd been slugged in the gut. "Fuck yeah, my little angel...I love it... So perfect...perfect little mouth... Shit, baby, the things you do to me..."

"W-Wanna dwo mwoar, Wick..." Morty mumbled around the scientist's cock, not even bothering to take it out of his mouth before trying to speak.

Rick couldn't help the shudder that took over his body, hearing that soft voice muffled by his big dick, feeling those dulcet lips flutter over his hot skin, trying to form words. The resulting groan left him feeling gutted and light-headed, and he leaned heavily back against the workbench again.

Morty pulled away, slurping loudly and laving the entire length once with the wide flat of his tongue. "Wanna...wanna feel you inside too, Rick," he said, cradling the thick piece of flesh in both hands and kissing all down the length of it like he was worshipping it. "It feels so good inside me... You—You always make me feel so good, Rick..." More kisses peppered Rick's erection as Morty trailed his lips upward, moving past it to place a few pecks on the warm skin of his belly. "Your body..." he mumbled absently, tracing his hands over the ashen skin and feeling ribs and two already peaked nipples further up under the man's shirt. He dallied with them for a moment before withdrawing and reaching to the side and drawing one of the older man's hands up to his lips, placing kisses to each knobby knuckle, one at a time, as though cherishing the joints and fingers connected to them. "And your hands... Oh, Rick..." he moaned, nuzzling the warm palm against the side of his face, tilting to place sweet kisses at the wrist. "I love your hands so much! You're always so gentle... I think I fell in love with your hands first..."

Rick leaned forward and cupped the boy's slender, softly rounded face with those very hands. He placed kisses on his forehead, nose, little pouting lips. Drawing his hands down over the teen's throat and shoulders, he cupped his thin upper arms, rounded around to his back, and stroked up and down the boy's flanks. He pet both hands over Morty's feathered hair, then down both wings, drawing them firmly against the boy's back in a tender hug.

Morty cooed beautifully against his mouth, and Rick licked into it sensually, slowly. Running his hands along the underside of the teen's wings, petting downward from their apexes, Rick pushed lightly until the boy lifted them outward, spreading them a little. The scientist leaned back and looked at them, moaning in appreciation of the sight. He loved it when Mortys wings were unfurled slightly instead of tucked against his back. They were so beautiful to behold.

Rick hooked his hands under Morty's armpits and lifted him up, and the boy bent his legs and rested his shins along Rick's thighs, kneeling on his lap. Their lips came together immediately, kissing deeply while the old man pet along the inside of Morty's wings.

The boy broke the kiss just barely, his huffed breaths puffing quietly. " _Oo your lips too, Rick...I love your lips too... Love the way you kiss me, Rick..._ " he whispered, brushing his wet lips against Rick's.

The scientist groaned and went in to kiss him more, wrapping one arm around his small waist. He tongued into the boy's mouth, twisting the organs together hotly. Holding Morty to him while he undid his pants, Rick dragged the zipper down slowly. He pressed his fingers past the opened fabric and cupped Morty's groin, massaging the hot bulge in his stretchy boxer-briefs.

"Unff...Rick..." the teen whined, shivering. His hips thrust forward, pressing himself harder into the scientist's hand, grinding against the warmth and tender touch. "Want you inside, Rick..." he moaned longingly, an audible ache in his voice that spoke of a need so deeply ingrained, it would be the only thing that could satisfy the boy ever again. No food or drink could sate the kind of hunger that ate him up from the inside out. Only his lover had what he needed, what he would only ever need ever again.

"Want me inside, Morty?" Rick answered the call, blindly tugging at the boy's stretchy pants, dragging them and his underwear down simultaneously.

Nodding, Morty tilted his chin up, inviting Rick to partake in the soft skin of his neck, in which the old man very gratefully indulged himself. The lab filled with the sounds of deep sucking kisses and soft moans while Rick multitasked with leaving reddened marks of possession on the boy's neck and pulling his pants all the way off.

"Lemme see all of you, baby bird," Rick grumbled, taking the hem of Morty's yellow shirt and lifting, dragging that last article of clothing off of his body and over his wings. He dropped the fabric off to the side somewhere, eyes glued to his little Morty's soft pale skin and perky pink nipples. "So beautiful...so perfect..." he mumbled, leaning back in to kiss down a little chest and tickle his tongue along one of those cute little peaks. His experienced hands pet down over the undersides of Morty's wings again, fingers rifling through the feathers in teasing little twists.

"Rick...Rick, please..." the boy whined, tensing and clinging to his shoulders.

"Sorry, baby, you wanted something?" Rick asked between sucking more red marks into Morty's slender shoulder. "Something about me...being inside you?" He held the boy to himself and lapped a hot wet tongue up the side of his throat, cupping the back of his head and around his waist to keep him from squirming away from the sudden attack.

Morty did try to squirm but didn't make it too far before shudders shook his frame and he melted into the old man's embrace. "Please, Rick... Wanna feel you..." he whimpered, tilting his head to bring his lips to Rick's ear. " _So big, Rick... Wanna feel it... Stretches me so full, Rick..._ " he whispered needfully, bucking his hips and grinding his own weeping length along his older lover's. " _L-Love how big you are, Rick... Like a—like a monster...but kind...a—a gentle beast..._ "

It was Rick's turn to shudder, the ear Morty whispered such naughty seduction to feeling hot and twitchy. "L-Lube..." he stuttered, pointing up, "on the—on the shelf."

Morty giggled and shifted to stand on Rick's thighs, bracing a hand to his head of wiry hair while he reached up high to pluck the familiar silvery metal jar off the shelf there. He swore there had to be a dozen of those jars stashed all over the house and lab at that point.

Licking his lips, Rick couldn't help but give in to the temptation that dangled right before his face while Morty leaned over him to fetch the jar. Parting his thin lips, he tilted his head upward and suckled his little Morty's leaking erection, trailing his tongue along the length of it inside his mouth.

The boy jerked and squeaked, plunking the jar to the workbench and grasping Rick's head, silvery-blue hair spilling out between his fingers. "R-Rick?!"

Not stopping, Rick drew back a little and sucked at the tip of the teen's cock, tasting his salty-sweet pre-cum as it poured generously over his tastebuds. He swore the kid was worse than a leaky faucet...but only in all the best ways. "S-So good, Morty..." he grumbled, mouthing up the length then back down, nibbling at the pudgy sack of skin hanging below. "Fuck, baby, so yummy." His lips moved back up, kissing all the way, parting when they reached the tip again and allowing it entry into his mouth, enveloping the entirety of it in moist heat and heavy suction.

"N-Not too much, Rick... Please, not t-too much!" Morty shivered hard, the telltale stirrings of orgasm swirling low in his belly and pleasantly aching through his groin. "I-If you...d-don't stop..." he whined, tensing, fighting with his own body to calm down, but with his cock in Rick's talented mouth, it was a losing battle.

Gently, Rick let the teen's arousal slip from between his lips and kissed upward along his stomach, hands smoothing over sleek hips, thighs, and behind locked knees, encouraging the boy to lower back down and kneel on his lap again. Morty went as Rick directed, sighing in relief as the hot spike of pleasure tapered off now that he wasn't being wholly engulfed by the old man's amazing mouth.

"Couldn't resist, angel," Rick mumbled to the boy's little ear before taking a couple laps at that too. "But I promise you, Morty...someday soon, I'm gonna suck you bone dry, baby. Gonna be all I do...just takin' you with my mouth over and over 'till you got nothing left. Maybe I'll give you a couple dry orgasms too...those are intense, baby..."

Morty gulped at the threat of impending sexual assault. It sounded like it could be fun, but it also sounded like he would end up sore from a too vigorous Rick sexing him up. But then he smiled at his older lover and leaned in to kiss sweetly at his sloping nose. Who was he kidding? Rick had yet to leave him sore from anything they did, thanks to that lube and the old man's gentle handling.

"L-Looking forward to it, Rick..."

Rick grinned and winked at him, squeezing enticingly at the boy's hips and chuckling deeply.

Working the cap off the canister of lubrication, Morty dipped his fingers into it. The stuff was slippery and warm and it felt nice, even on his fingers. Biting his lip, he brought his hand behind himself and sighed, lidding his eyes as he began preparing his own self to be fucked.

Rick raised half his eyebrow in intrigue, licking his lips and staring at where Morty's arm wrapped around behind himself. "Oo are you fingering yourself, Morty? Getting that lube all up in there, baby?" he asked lewdly, leaning in and placing loud smacking kisses along his collarbone.

Morty nodded, some fresh sweat glistening on his brow. "Yeah, Rick... I-It feels so good. I really love this lube you invented." He swallowed and lidded his eyes, already working a second finger inside, the stretch made easy with the special properties in the lubricant.

"Fuck yeah. I declare it's officially the best invention I've ever created, Morty." Sliding a hand down Morty's arm that was twisted behind himself, Rick pressed against the back of the boy's hand, forcing his fingers in deeper. The teen moaned sweetly, licking his lips and staring at Rick. "It makes things nice and just loose enough so there's no pain at all, baby, but leaves all the benefits. Doesn't dull the senses. So you feel everything." He slid a finger slowly over the back of Morty's hand and followed the other two the boy already had inside himself. That finger slipped in with them, burying to the knuckle in one smooth glide.

"Ohh! Oh, fuck, Rick!" Morty moaned and stiffened.

"Yeah, you like that? You feel that, Morty?" Holding the boy's hand with the rest of his fingers, Rick moved both of their hands in tandem, pumping their fingers inside together, slow and slick.

"Rick...oh shit..."

"Yeah, Morty... Feel that?" He pushed them all in deeper, firmly holding his petite lover's hand. "That's you and me, Morty. Rick and Morty...together...makin' everything better."

Morty gasped and gripped his free hand onto Rick's shoulder, balling the white lab coat up into a shaking fist. "Yeah, Rick... R-Rick and Morty..."

"You feel me in there with you, baby bird?" He wiggled his finger a little and crooked it forward, sliding between Morty's two fingers to tease along his slick walls.

The teen stiffened again and gasped, gripping Rick's coat on his shoulder harder.

"Feel me, Morty?"

"I-I f-feel you, Rick..."

"How's it feel, Morty? With you and me together?"

"F-Feels so g-good, Rick... I love it." Leaning close, Morty pecked along Rick's lips, panting with lidded eyes, drunk off the pleasure and Rick's words. "I love **you**."

Rick hissed and easily slipped another finger inside, working them all around with Morty's. "It's just me and you, Morty... Rick and Morty...just us...always together..."

"...together..." the boy mumbled, repeating the word like a mantra, hypnotized by his Rick's deep voice speaking low, perfect promises.

"Rick and Morty...a hundred years...a thousand..."

"...f-forever... R-Rick and Morty...forever..."

"Forever, Morty. Yeah. Rick and Morty...forever and ever...all time, Rick and Morty..." Rick ranted quietly, lips brushing against his small companion's as they shared breaths and reverent vows. His fingers slid deep and danced around with the boy's inside him.

Morty emitted such a pretty coo that Rick feared his skin would tear with how hard it made him.

"Need you, baby... Need inside you..."

"Please, Rick..."

"Join with me, Morty... Let's become one...now and forever... Rick and Morty forever, baby. You and me..."

"That's all I want, Rick... Just want you...always..."

"Do it, angel...yeah, do it..."

If he was not already poking through the fly of his underwear, Rick was positive he'd be tearing through his pants at that point.

Slowly, they both withdrew their fingers from Morty's backside, and the teen gathered more lube and delicately swirled it over Rick's beet red cock. The old scientist mumbled little phrases of encouragement as Morty maneuvered around on his lap then squatted down on his erection. The blunt tip dug into him enticingly, and Morty moaned long and low as he sank along the throbbing heat. It stretched him and filled him, and he loved every sensation. He felt every pulse through the organ jerking inside him, every vein twining the thick length as it entered him, the plump head boring through his insides to come to a rest planted firmly in what felt like his stomach.

" _Yes..._ " he whispered, head tilted back, eyes closed, little tremors skittering up his spine and down through his thighs. He never felt as complete as he did when joined together with his Rick. Like two puzzle pieces that had once been missing from the whole picture, fitting perfectly into each other and competing the elaborate tapestry that was their duo.

"Ohh Morty...Morty..." Rick whined, twining his long arms around the teen's body and cradling him in his lap. "I feel you, baby... Sucking me in so tight... Y-You really wanted me in there, didn't you, baby bird...didn't you, Morty..."

"Y-Yeah, Rick..." the teen answered readily, leaning bodily into the old man's embrace and breathing hotly along his throat. "Fuck...so good... Rick, so good...'n deep...deep..." He shivered and clenched, latching his lips to that long throat and sucking softly.

The groan that Rick emitted sounded like he'd been strung up and gutted. "Ooffffuuuck Morty... I felt that!" he cooed, stroking a hand over the boy's softly rounded rump. "Fuckin' hell, baby, I'm a goner... This is it—I'm done for... That tight little ass is gonna kill me, sweetheart!" he rambled, eyes shut tight and tilting his head back and forth. "So sexy...amazing...my sweet little Morty...the death of me..."

Morty giggled and decided right then was a great time to put his hips into play, rocking them up and back and adding a little twirl in the mix randomly. Rick's reaction was to curl his fingers into soft thighs just to the point before becoming uncomfortable and groaning so low and long, he ran out of breath.

"Don't worry, Rick... I said before that I won't let you die," he promised, working himself with a little more enthusiasm on the old man's lap. "Besides...how can it be Rick and Morty forever if you keel over every time we do it?" Another sweet giggle left his lips before he pecked them just as sweetly to his elder lover's cheek.

Rick's answering chuckle was a pleasant rumble. "You're right, Morty. My—My guardian angel will look out for me, hm?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Yeah, that's right. That's right, Morty." His breaths came a little heavier as he helped his small winged lover pick up the pace. "Gonna be me and you...Rick and Morty..."

"Always...Rick and Morty..." Morty answered without being prompted, lifting and lowering himself on his Rick's lap. The scientist's long, rigid meat ground through his ass, pressing in every direction at once, a solid, unavoidable force against his insides. No matter which way he tilted or angled, it stroked firmly along that most sensitive gland inside himself, a constant pressure, constant pleasure that he couldn't escape from, even if he wanted to. "Oh, Rick!"

"Yeah, baby, like that," Rick grumbled, cupping the boy's cheek in a warm hand.

"Hmmm..." Morty hummed happily, holding that hand more firmly against his face and kissing the wrist.

A particularly deep thrust rattled him to the core, and Morty shuddered, tensing up on Rick's lap before spreading his legs a little wider and cupping the tops of his feet along the old man's knees. His wings shivered and unfurled a bit, trying to help with balance.

Rick's eyes were drawn to them like a fucking moth to a lightbulb. He couldn't keep his hands off of them, reaching over the boy's shoulders to stroke the feathers and push at the appendages to spread open wider. "So pretty, Morty... Such a pretty little birdie..." he cooed sweetly, running his fingertips through the brown plumage.

It tickled and Morty giggled, twitching his wings and swinging them back and forth to get Rick to stop.

"Oo, yeah, flap those wings, angel," Rick grunted approvingly, eyes alight with mischief and desire. "...Flap, flap..." he instructed tapping the boys shoulders as he said the words.

Morty flapped his wings with each repeat of the word, not spreading them as wide as they could go, but enough that it was a good show of the motion.

"Flap...flap...flap..." Rick intoned, licking his lips and watching Morty try to fall into sync with his prompts, the boy swinging his wings just a little faster to catch up. "Flap, flap, flap 'em, baby bird!" Rick crowed enthusiastically, a grin spreading over his mouth as glee glinted off the blue flecks in his icy grey eyes.

Morty's wings beat at a steady pace, generating a wind that cooled the sweat on Rick's face. Some papers and a couple small gadgets and parts on the workbench also rustled around in the draft.

Unexpectedly, Rick stood with him in his lap, pinning him with one arm around his waist and one tucked up between those moving wings. "That's it, angel..." he praised, bending his knees a little and tilting his hips upward. In the next moment, Rick was ramming himself deep inside rapidly, bouncing Morty on his cock while the boy flapped his wings like he was flailing madly in the old scientist's grip. "There you go, baby bird! Fly on Rick's cock, baby, yeah! Shit, you're the fuckin' best, Morty! Goddamn that's hot!"

Morty squeaked and grunted with each impact of Rick's pelvis on his ass, the cloth of his boxers and pants softening the blow, keeping their skin from slapping together lewdly. Instead, the sound of heavy patting filled the lab along with the fanning of the air through Morty's feathered wings and both of their panted breathing and groaning.

"My sexy little angel...thrash on my cock, baby, yeah!" Rick urged, keeping the boy pinned in place while he beat his wings uselessly, starting to lose rhythm. One wing lifted, the other trailing behind further and further until he was completely out of sync, eyes rolling back in ecstasy while Rick filled him to the brim over and over.

"I got you, baby... I'mma fuck you senseless, little birdie. Drive your brains right outta your head, Morty," he promised with a sweet coo and a growly undertone. "And then when you wake up, we'll do it all over again, Morty. All over, again and again, Morty." He licked his lips as his lap pulsed with the thought.

Morty gasped and curled his legs up tighter against his own sides, exposing himself as much as possible to the man driving into his tight heat relentlessly. The slick glide through his entrance was intense but still a sweet sensation that drove him wild with the want to feel it even more. "Oh, yes, please, Rick! Again and again!" he yelled with abandon, happily helpless in the older man's grip. At that point, more than ever, he was so glad to weigh so little. He loved being so easily held up by long, strong arms.

Rick pumped his hips, gripping around the boy tighter, becoming the sole driving force that rocked Morty's world upside down and sideways. "Yeah, little birdie, that's right. And then when we're tired of fucking, we'll go on adventures, Morty," he promised, heavy breaths panting through his lips. "We'll go out and get lots of stuff, baby, just me and you. We'll deal and trade and steal and rip off and fuckin' galavant all over the known fuckin' cosmos, Morty!" He groaned deep from his gut, in love with that idea as though he hadn't even had the thought of it until the words left his mouth, but now that they were out and hanging in the air all around them, he knew he would make due on that oath.

"I'll take you to every fancy place I know, baby bird. Take you to all the nicest spots. And I'll fuck you in all of 'em, sweetheart. Every hotel, every beach, every tranquil field of flowers—I'm gonna plow your tight little winged ass in all of 'em, Morty," Rick swore, searing that pledge deep into Morty's body with each slam of his hips against the boy's tenderly sweet ass.

"And then we'll head out on even more adventures after that, Morty," he rambled on, lost in the moment, in the feeling of his little Morty cradled in his arms, wings flapping tiredly now, out of sync, while the boy gasped and moaned from not only the cock searing through his insides, but the words Rick spoke, worming into his ears and settling into his heart. "It'll be Rick and Morty...Rick and Morty all over the universe, fucking and hoarding shit, and hoarding shit and fucking, Morty. If you stick with me, I'm gonna accomplish great things. And you're gonna be part of 'em. And together we're gonna run around, Morty. We're gonna do all kinds'a wonderful things, baby bird. Just you and me."

"Y-Yes, Rick! Yes, please, it's all I want! R-Rick and Morty, always...all time... Morty...h-helping you out, Rick... Morty helping Rick with inventions... M-Morty helping with adventures...watching your back, Rick. K-Keeping you safe...helping out and fighting off enemies and—and healing your wounds when shit's all done!" Morty exclaimed, head tipping back and gasping loudly when Rick gave him a few extra deep thrusts for his enthusiastic additions to his rant.

"That's right, Morty...that's right, you know it! You know the world is full of idiots that don't understand what's important. And they'll tear us apart, Morty! That bastard that plucked you...that piece of shit Delta-Rick!" He growled loudly, pulling his small lover in closer, tucking him up along his chest and kissing him deep and hot, breathing heavily through his nose and over the boy's sweaty, flushed cheek. They parted with loud gasps, and Rick picked up right where he left off, curling his hips up into Morty's backside and continuing the rant he seemed deeply invested in. "The outside world is our enemy, Morty... We're the only friends we got, baby bird... It's just Rick and Morty. Rick and Morty and their adventures and fuckin' around and more adventures, Morty. Rick and Morty forever and forever, a hundred years...Rick and Morty...some things..." he trailed off, panting hard and eyes rolling up when Morty leaned in to lick along his throat and bite at the slightly loose skin.

"More! More!" the teen begged, squirming in the old man's grip, holding around his neck and drawing his wings in to wrap around Rick's back and cup against his head, feathers tickling along his bald spot teasingly.

Rick groaned and fought to continue. He readjusted his hold on the boy's back and waist, leaning back and bending his knees a little more, hefting the kid into a better position with a little hop before giving him more of what he so sweetly begged for.

"Me and...and Rick and Morty...runnin' around, and...Rick and Morty time," he tried, wanting to focus more on the pleasure pooling hotly in his belly and sinking low through his thighs and groin. Morty's tight ass was rapidly catching up to him, and it was much harder to distract himself with rambling words than before.

"Yes, Rick, more! I love it—I want it—all of it, Rick! Please!" Morty pleaded, crystal tears sparkling in his eyes, a little drool making the corner of his mouth and lower lip wet. He felt himself tightening up, clamping down on the rigid length buried so deep inside him, it felt like it was tickling the back of his throat.

Rick drew him in again, tucking the boy tight against his chest, still clothed in his teal shirt and white lab coat. His hot breaths panted across the teen's flushed ear while he stood there and rocked them both bodily.

"G-Gonna fuck you, Morty...all day long, forever...a hundred days... Rick and Morty, fucking a hundred times..." he promised with shuddering breaths between each powerful yet tender-enough-not-to-break-the-kid thrusts. "And adventures, Morty...so many adventures... Over and over, Rick and Morty adventures dot com..." he went on, thighs and calves burning, tears in his eyes, arms wrapped so tight around the boy there was no room to squirm. " _Forever..._ " he croaked, teeth grit and those tears breaking free, "R-Rick and Morty...forever and ever... You and me, baby bird...you and me...just us...al-always..."

Rick's heart skipped a beat and his breath hitched in time, the cusp of his pleasure suddenly upon him. He dug himself in deep and came so hard his vision whited out and sparkled behind tightly closed lids. "Together forever!" he shouted with a tremulous voice, tears streaking his cheeks, thighs shaking, stomach twitching with each powerful throb of his orgasm.

Instead of stopping, he plowed on through. High as he was on a chemical cocktail of adrenalin, dopamine, and oxytocin, he still knew his little lover hadn't achieved his peak of pleasure yet, and he would be damned if he left his sweet little angel hanging. The quick thrusts and solid slide of his cock through Morty's tight, tight ass had the boy gasping and bucking, and a moment later, he reared back and pulled his wings away from their tight hug around Rick to splay wide behind his back and shudder with rustling sounds as he came.

"R-Rick and Mooorrtyy!" he cried loudly, lurching in Rick's arms, wings twitching and feathers fluffing so much they looked like they were trying to separate from one another. Even the fine, downy plumage on his head puffed up, some of it sticking together in messy clumps from the amount of sweat that had dampened it.

They stood there in the aftermath, the whole lab feeling steamy. Their breaths were ragged, chests heaving, mouths and throats dry and scratchy from nearly hyperventilating in those last few, intense moments before the "Big Bang".

Rick gave out first, long slender legs shaking and backpedaling until he bumped into the stool. He tipped back and fell onto the seat, bouncing slightly on the cushion and jostling Morty on his lap. The boy whined out a weak moan and shivered against the scientist, adjusting slightly to cling to him better in the new position. His wings lowered and drooped to either side, lying limp and partially folded against the floor.

The heat was unbearable, but neither felt like moving, clinging to each other, breathing the same air, hastened hearts beating as one between their chests.

Rick stroked a hand down over Morty's fluffed hair. His large, wide hand gripped into it softly and gave just enough of a tug to get the boy to tilt his head back. And then he leaned in and devoured his mouth, softly, but deeply, licking through the cavern and moistening it up again. The kiss was long and languid—Rick and Morty sharing a tender moment, breathing against each other's cheeks through their noses so they didn't have to part for oxygen.

Some tears fell into the mix at some point, the warm saltiness spreading between their lips and mingling in with the soft flavors already in their mouths. Neither was sure who exactly was the one crying, but it didn't really matter either way. Because they were together. They were sharing everything—every moment, every breath, every heartbeat, every need and desire—it was all mixed up between them, and they relished in that realization that they were a pair...a team...an unstoppable duo with an unshakable bond.

It truly was Rick and Morty...always and forever.

Slowly, their lips parted, the flesh sticking together and pulling slightly, like they weren't ready to separate yet. Soft sighs left both of their mouths, the warm breaths mingling between their faces.

Rick drew back a little more, blinking and taking in the beautiful face of his winged Morty. There were tracks of wetness on his little rounded cheeks, and Rick lifted a lightly shaking hand and lighted it to the warm skin, gently swiping it dry.

" _My precious angel..._ " he whispered reverently, falling deeply into the rounded blue eyes that peered up at him, lidded and sated and so, so happy.

" _My handsome Rick..._ " Morty replied just as softly, one of his small hands reaching up to stroke the scientist's equally wet cheek.

They kissed again, just briefly that time, and Rick tucked the boy back against his chest, content with simply sitting there and cradling him for as long as he cared to.

He was beyond elated. Morty had chosen him over his original. The new Rick over the old. Rick couldn't have been happier. Sure, later, he would probably feel smug as shit, but right then, he was just good with holding **his** Morty close and relishing in the intimacy that he no longer had to fear giving up.

Morty gave a little squirm, then whined against Rick's throat, tensing up around his cock, still embedded inside him. It seemed to be taking a while to deflate, not that Rick was complaining.

"'Sa matter, baby bird?" he mumbled against the side of the boy's head tiredly.

Morty whined again, tensing himself up even tighter. "It's coming out... I don't wanna lose any part of you..." he whimpered, voice muffled against the scientist's neck.

Rick hummed and smiled, hugging the teen tight and stroking along his upper back gently. His other hand reached around and cupped the boy's small but plush bottom, giving it a light squeeze. He could feel what Morty was talking about. His load of milky cum was slowly seeping out, oozing along his leisurely waning erection. How adorable for the kid to be so sentimental about something like that.

"It's okay..." Rick reassured with a gentle gravely voice. "It'll come out...but I can always put more back in later. I'll keep replenishing what you lose...giving you everything you need...because we'll always be together, Morty."

The boy shifted finally and looked up, big wet eyes drinking in the kindly features of his Rick's face, the irises twitching to view every soft line indenting the ashen skin. "You promise?"

A wide smile bloomed on Rick's face, and he pet one hand down over the fluffy, hair-like feathers on Morty's head. "Of course... You chose **me** , Morty. So from now on, it's just gonna be you and me, remember?" He leaned close and drew his nose along his little companion's, lips hovering over parting, willing lips. "Rick and Morty...forever..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always loved that rant that Rick went on at the end of the pilot episode, and I tend to work that kind of dialog in to my writing where applicable. Because, to me, that style of ranting is iconic to "Rick and Morty", and an integral part of their characters. There's a version of a rant at the end of every season premier so far, after all. LOL I feel like it's almost a bonding thing for them, to rant about 100 years and going on adventures together and such. So I incorporated some of Rick's rant at the end of the pilot episode, but then adapted it for my Rick and Morty pair to make it unique for them. I'm of the mind that eventually, all Ricks with Mortys will, at some point, go through a similar rant like the one in the pilot. I just hope it came across as impassioned as how I intended it. :)
> 
> I really hope that you enjoyed! This is basically the end, but there's just a quick afterward left to wrap things all up, so I hope you'll stick around for just a little longer. Thank you for reading this far! We're almost done!


	18. Afterward

Sighing, Rick Sanchez of Earth dimension S-322 sat back on the stool in his lab, leaning his back against the workbench behind it and cradling his little naked Morty against his chest. It barely registered that he himself was still fully clothed save for his finally wilting erection hanging from his pants. But their latest tryst had been so heated and passionate, there had apparently been no need for him to strip...nor had there been an opportunity for that matter. Regardless, it wasn't so bad anymore since the heat of their excursion was finally dying down to more tolerable levels.

After their round of impassioned lovemaking, they both were content with just sitting there in the lab and collecting dust for a while. Even though Morty was still naked, he was blissful to stay curled in the scientist's lap, soaking in the warmth of his body after the inferno of their fuckfest had faded and the cool air of the room began to creep back in.

Idle grey eyes listed to the right, catching sight of the ten inch grey feather lying on the workbench beside that (thankfully) broken call button that Rick Delta-017 had given to his little winged Morty. With that issue gleefully out of the way, the feather took on a different meaning for Rick. It no longer represented an insurmountable obstacle that stood between him and his new Morty. Instead, it seemed rather unassuming, even a bit sad. That was the last piece of what was once a very rare breed of Rick. One that probably had no duplicate, at least on any timeline that was near the Central Finite Curve. Going too far beyond was stepping into dangerous and uncertain territory, so that far out was best left as theoretical and unexplored.

Rick reached a long arm out and picked the feather off the table. He held it between his fingers, relaxing his elbow back against the work surface casually, and twirled the wide, grey object slowly. He watched how the powdery grey vane reflected a little silver in the bright lights of the lab, and how the light grey downy afterfeather swayed delicately with the motion. Honestly, it **was** rather pretty, now that he took the time to really observe the thing.

Huffing a small noise of amusement, he looked down at Morty, noticing the boy staring up at him, an unsure look twisting his thin eyebrows and embedding small stress lines around his eyes and corners of his mouth. Eager to ease that look off the boy's face, Rick brought the feather to his cheek, caressing it lightly against the smooth skin.

Morty's eyes blew wide in surprise, his mouth falling open a little.

Rick smiled down at him warmly, eyes falling half closed in contentment. "You should keep this, Morty," he suggested softly.

The winged teen shifted his wide blue eyes back and forth between his elder and the feather close to his face. After everything they'd just gone through... "But..."

"It's okay. I know you loved him. I'm not trying to step on that, baby. But...you're with **me** now, right?" Rick asked, raising half of his eyebrow in question.

Morty nodded, wide-eyed, with a look of confusion twisting his thin eyebrows together.

Rick just continued to smile at him before turning his attention back to the feather again as he spun it lazily some more. "He was probably an amazing guy, if he could hold your heart so firmly for so long. It would be cruel of me to take something like this away from you, Morty."

The boy stared up at him, eyes shining like bright blue stars, glossing over with tears.

"Do whatever you want with it, but I won't take it away, okay? Keep it, throw it away, make it into a piece of jewelry, I don't care. Just uh..." Rick's cheeks turned slightly pink, "if you use it to play with yourself, Morty, you better let me in on it."

Morty blushed furiously, eyes popping wide and mouth falling open once again.

"Cause you're **my** Morty now, right?" Rick asked, the hint of a need of reassurance laced into the question.

Morty nodded again, biting his lip.

"Well...I'm not gonna appreciate you getting off with some other Rick, then, am I?"

Morty hid against Rick's throat, face so red it looked like someone smashed a tomato into it. "S...So d-dirty, Rick... Th-That's his f-feather..." he mumbled against the man's warm skin.

"A feather that used to caress you, right?" Rick wondered, blinking down at the boy expectantly.

A hesitant moment passed before Morty eventually nodded.

Smirking with that response, the old scientist looked back at the feather, twirling it idly between his fingers again. "Feathers can be quite erotic tools of pleasure, Morty. I'm positive you know that already."

The teen nuzzled harder into his throat, his wings rustling against his back, and Rick chuckled, the sound slightly raspy from his windpipe being constricted a bit.

"Not saying you're gonna do that, but hey, in the event... I want in on it, baby. I won't let another Rick get my angel off. Deal?"

Unable to help but huff at the absurdity of the whole thing, Morty giggled, the sound light and airy. "Okay, Rick. Deal."

Sighing with contentment, Rick gave a small nod, patting at the teen's naked bottom softly. "Okay, Morty," he said just as softly as his touch, "let's get cleaned up, hm? I don't know about you, but I'm wiped out, and a nap is looking real good about now."

Another soft, sweet giggle left the boy's mouth, and he smirked at his lover as the old man lifted him off of his lap and stood him on the floor finally. "Aw seriously, Rick? You're really going for the 'old man needing a nap' cliché?"

Rick snorted at him, mildly amused as he used a rag to wipe off his spent arousal before tucking it back into his pants and zipping up. "I **am** an old man that needs a nap, ya little brat," he groused good-naturedly. "You might be small and light, but fuckin' around with you takes a lot outta me, angel. I'm definitely not getting any younger, even though having you around makes me feel like I am."

Morty paused, looking up at his elder, watching him putting himself back together, buckling his belt and straightening his shirt. "Rick...?"

The old man paused then too, casting curious eyes toward his little winged companion.

"Do I..." the boy held his tongue for a moment, glancing off to the side and nibbling on his lower lip until he found the words he had been searching for, "Do I really make you feel...younger?"

A gentle smile pulled Rick's thin lips across his face, and he leaned forward, propping his elbows to his knees and leveling his eyes at Morty. "You make me feel a lot of things, Morty... A lot... Feeling younger is just one of 'em. You got this ol' bod jacked up on all kinds'a chemical concoctions," he said, pointing a thumb toward himself and smirking. "And they're all the feel-good kind too, baby bird... Well, mostly." Reaching out a weathered hand, Rick stroked it softly along the petite teen's blushing cheek, staring him directly in his round blue eyes. "You really are the best thing that's ever happened to me, Morty. Better even than when I invented portal technology. Nothing compares to you, angel. Just nothing."

Morty nibbled harder at his lip, eyes glossing over. His Rick could always make him bubble over with emotion so easily, it was a joke. Wiping at his eyes, he turned a wobbly smile to the old man and reached for him, wrapping his thin arms around Rick's shoulders and tucking his head down under the elder's chin. "Nothing compares to you either, Rick. I mean it. I'm so sorry...really...so, so sorry, Rick... I-I shouldn't have left you hanging like I did. I-I shoulda just thrown that button away right away, or—or never even taken it in the first place. But...but I w-was upset and confused...a-and then...everything happened so fast, a-and..." He sniffed thickly, keeping his guilty gaze trained onto the teal shirt collar around Rick's neck. "I-I-I shoulda said sooner, like, told you what I wanted a-and that I was sorry for taking so long, but...but I wanted to make you feel better after everything, a-and one thing led to another, a-a-and..."

"Sweet angel..." Rick mumbled, kissing the boy's temple softly. "It's okay, I get it, baby bird. Shit happens." Long, languid fingers stroked through soft downy tufts of brown hair, carding through the strands and feeling it tickle over his skin. "You're young yet, Morty. You may have had a relationship with your original, but you—you don't really know how to **be** in a relationship yet, ya know? Don't worry, though...I...I'm not exactly that good with it, myself." He chuckled softly, placing another couple kisses to Morty's forehead.

A quiet just as soft as those kisses fell between them for a long minute.

"Did...did you just a-admit that you're not good at something, Rick?" Morty dared to ask—quietly, of course.

Rick stiffened for a second, his eyes widening at that. He cleared his throat a moment later. "Well, Morty, we all gotta start somewhere. I-I wasn't born knowing everything, ya know. I've achieved my supreme level of greatness over a long time, a-and just because I'm not good at something **right now** , doesn't mean I won't master it like fuckin' **that** ," he gloated, snapping his fingers in illustration. "Even if that something is being in love with my cute little Morty. Arrr!" he growled playfully, nibbling along the boy's neck and grabbing at his butt and waist, wrestling his little body back and forth.

Morty squealed and giggled, twisting and squirming to get away from the lips attacking his neck and the grabby hands tickling at his body. "Geez, Rick! Ha-ha-ha! Okay, okay! You're the best! I give, I give! Ha-ha-ha-ha!"

Backing off, Rick gave him a winning grin, showing teeth. "Yeah, you know it, baby."

Giggling more, Morty reached his arms around his big Rick's neck and tucked back in for another hug, sighing with contentment. The old man's arms came around his back, even tucking his wings into the embrace, and they both held each other tightly, simply basking in that closeness that they alone would share with each other from then onward.

Rick sighed through his nose serenely, eyes having drifted closed the moment their hug began. "Come on, now. This rickety old man needs a nap. You're makin' me even sleepier with this warm little hug, babe."

Morty giggled and withdrew, but not before planting a couple lingering kisses to Rick's smiling lips. "O-Okay, old man. Let's go put you down for a—a nap. And then when we get up, I-I'll make you a bowl of mush for supper so it'll be easy to chew and digest. We—We can't have you getting all constipated, or I'll have to feed you Ex-Lax. But then you'll have to wear Depends in case you can't make it to the bathroom in time and end up sh-shitting yourself. I don't wanna have to change your shitty old man diapers, Rick."

Rick burst out laughing. He stood and plucked his little Morty off of the floor and cradled him against his chest as he turned and walked them both out of the lab. "J-Jeezus, Morty, if I ever get that bad, just put me the fuck down. Ha-ha-ha! In fact, I'll build a shed out back just so you can take me out behind it and put me outta my misery."

Morty laughed along with him, cradling the old scientist's shoulders with his wings as they walked toward the bedroom. "I doubt it'll ever come to that, Rick. You—You're too smart to lose bowel function, even if you are an old fart."

"An old fart, am I?" Rick snorted, mirth in his voice. He carried the boy past the threshold of the bedroom door and kicked it closed with one foot.

Silence issued forth from the room for a solid ten seconds before the loud tearing sound of air erupting from between wrinkly old butt cheeks rattled the door on its hinges. Then the high-pitched screech of Morty's voice rose in a panic followed by a fit of coughing and sputtering, along with raucous deep laughter.

"Fucking gross, Rick!!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so, we have finally come to the end. I want to thank each and every one of you who read my story, commented, and/or gave a kudos. The journey to write, edit, and post this story was long, and I am beyond appreciative and humbled by the sheer amount of positivity it has gotten. I started out just wanting to write some wholesome yet hardcore fluff between Rick and Morty, and what ended up happening was just magical! I don't post like 90% of what I write, and I haven't posted a story anywhere in years (besides the other 2 here on AO3), so when I decided to give this story a shot and submit it for others to view, I was very nervous and hesitant at first. (To be clear, I HAVE posted all of my Rick and Morty fics so far, it's other fandoms I'm talking about.)
> 
> Every single person that even just clicked on my story, I am so very thankful for. I wrote something I wanted to read myself, and everyone that has said that they liked reading it too—all of you lovely people—have made it so worth the effort. So, as long as I still keep getting ideas for Rick and Morty stories, I will continue to write and post them! Already, I have 5 other stories in this series either completed or still being written, so if you liked what I did with this one (and my other stories here on AO3), then I hope you'll come back again to read the new stuff I have coming down the line.
> 
> Thank you so much again, everyone, for reading, for your kind and uplifting words in the comments, for subscribing to this story to receive updates when I post, and for the generous kudos you've left on it. You don't know how happy you all have made me. And I truly look forward to seeing you all again, and hopefully meeting new people as well, in future stories.
> 
> Thank you, thank you, and thank you again! Much love to you all, and take care until next we meet! ❤️❤️❤️


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